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jellybuttons · 9 months

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Crowley's "oh" moment wasn't him realizing that he's in love

Okay so we've all talked about the scene where Nina asks Crowley if Aziraphale is his "bit on the side" or whatever and Crowley has that visable fanfiction "oh" moment on his face afterwards. And I know a lot of people think it must have been Crowley realizing that he was in love with Aziraphale, but that's never sat right with me. Crowley is emotionally repressed and oblivious, sure, but he's been down bad for that angel since the beginning. I just can't believe he didn't know it the whole time. That can't have been what he was reacting to. Hell, just the nervous swallow he does at the beginning of that conversation implies that he knows exactly what Nina is about to ask him, meaning he at least already has that idea in his head.

I think what he was reacting to was Nina's last comment, "other people's love lives always seem so much more straightforward than our own" (I'm quoting from memory but I got the gist of it).

Crowley has been in love for a long time by this point. He's also, for that entire time, understood that nothing can be done about it. Up until Armageddon failed, there was no universe where Crowley and Aziraphale could safely be together, and Crowley cares too much about Aziraphale to truly risk his safety (although he does have his selfish moments--that need to know that Aziraphale cares for him too, that he's not completely alone in this partnership). Nothing could change, so there was no point in doing anything about it.

In the few years post Armageddon, though, it seems like QUITE a bit has changed for the two of them. Remember, these are two immortal beings...a few years is milliseconds to them. But in those milliseconds, it seems like Crowley has become a regular establishment in the bookshop, glasses off and all. Aziraphale felt comfortable enough with him to ask to borrow the Bentley, Crowley's prized possession and his literal home. They've gotten COMFY in a very short amount of time, objectively, and I'm sure it felt like big change to Crowley, who knows better than to ask for things he doesn't think he can have.

But Nina's comment. "Other people's love lives always seem so much more straightforward than our own". A direct parallel to exactly how Crowley has been thinking about her and Maggie this whole time--two people who just need a push (romantic awning, anyone?) and everything else would fall into place. Easy. Uncomplicated.

Crowley's "oh" moment isn't that he's in love with Aziraphale. It's that maybe being in love with Aziraphale doesn't have to be complicated.

Other people's love lives DO seem more straightforward than Crowley's own. But if Nina feels that way about him, as sure as he is about her and Maggie...could it be that easy? Could he have that with his angel? I don't think at this point that Crowley has any doubt about whether or not Aziraphale feels something for him (whatever that something may be in Crowley's mind), but after all...Aziraphale asked him to slow down. So he's been taking it slow. Hanging around more. Leaning into his space. Soaking up every second of Az's smiles like a dying man, content with whatever he's given.

But Nina. She thinks they're together already. No doubt in her mind. She thinks it's so straightforward, that of COURSE they're together, two people who look at each other with that much love in their eyes must be, right? And I think that "oh" is Crowley's realization that maybe it IS straightforward. After all, they're them, right? No more Heaven, no more Hell, no actual reason they couldn't just...be together. In that moment, Crowley isn't realizing that he's in love with Aziraphale. He's known he's in love for a very long time. No, that moment was him realizing that, maybe, he can stop pretending not to be, that maybe all they have to do is stop pretending they aren't everything to each other. Does he need to slow down if there's no danger to avoid?

When Nina and Maggie confront him at the end, encourage him to confess...objectively, I don't think Crowley as a character would agree to anything nearly that vulnerable without a LOT more convincing. But he does agree. And you could argue that it's because of Gabe and Beez, sure, but when has Crowley ever used other angels and demons as reasoning behind his choices? No, consistently, Crowley has followed humans every time. Gabe and Beez are nothing but conveniently timed examples. I think that even without G and B running off together, Nina and Maggie could've convinced him after nothing but this "oh" conversation with Nina.

When Crowley is choking out his confession in the final 15 of episode 6, so desperate to make Aziraphale understand...he says "we're a pair, a group, a group of the two of us, and we've spent our existence pretending that we aren't". That's the point he's trying to get across. They can stop pretending, they can stop pretending, please, god, stay here Aziraphale and don't make him keep pretending.

Please, Aziraphale, he's saying. Don't go back. I only just realized that it doesn't have to be complicated. He realized that, maybe, finally, he was allowed.

Oh, he thought, out there on the sidewalk with Nina, there's nothing left but me stopping me from being happy.

Oh, he thought, while Nina and Maggie urged him to communicate, the couple that so perfectly mirrored his own wants, I could tell him how I feel.

Oh, he thought, as Aziraphale looked at him with excited eyes and explained that he wanted them both to go back to Heaven, that Crowley could become an angel again, that they could go right back to working for the very thing that had been keeping them apart for thousands of years. Oh, oh god. I thought it was over. I thought we were free. I thought that, finally, maybe, it could be easy. Maybe we can stop pretending.

And he kissed him. Because fuck, just like with Nina and Maggie, he thought it could finally be easy, but then communicating didn't work and nothing was easy and all he had left was one fabulous kiss and vavoom and he was desperate and off script and so, so scared and then he was alone in the Bentley, driving away from the bookshop, completely alone.

Maybe Crowley should've kept pretending. It would've hurt less.

#im so obsessed with this moment i just can't believe that crowley makes sense if he doesn't know he's in love #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #gomens #crowley x aziraphale #aziracrow #neil gaiman

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milliesfishes · 2 months

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୨ৎ⋆˚౨ৎ𝓡𝓲𝓫𝓫𝓸𝓷𝓼౨ৎ˚⋆୨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: depression, control, mention of a past suicide attempt, angst pairing: coriolanus snow x fem reader author’s note: this work contains topics that may be upsetting pertaining mental health, controlling relationships, depression, and suicide. I did my best to portray them correctly. I hope you all enjoy the series, it's very angsty :) 𝓟𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓑𝓸𝓪𝓻𝓭 𝓢𝓹𝓸𝓽𝓲𝓯𝔂 𝓟𝓵𝓪𝔂𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

THE ELUSIVE FIRST LADY We've all seen the pictures. Coriolanus Snow was wed to the most beautiful bride Panem has ever seen in a lustrous ceremony two years ago. After the honeymoon, the young politician engaged in a slew of campaigning, and nearly exactly twelve months later, he was elected president. The First Lady has neither been seen or heard from since. In the past, it has been customary for the wives of the President to host galas and attend charity events. Mrs. Snow has done none of the above. President Snow was very open with his wife before the election, and she was alongside him at every speech and dinner. Presently, he attends what few events he does alone, his wife nowhere in sight. Due to the now-First Lady's popularity before her husband's candidacy, it is a curious occurrence indeed. So we, and all of Panem, have to ask the question- where is she?

Suffocation is very slow.

Even butterflies in bell jars flutter around for a bit before they take their last breaths. They are there to admire for what their captors know is a limited time. That was the difference between theirs and yours.

For your own peace of mind, you reasoned that Coriolanus Snow had not known what he was doing.

Breathing in the salty air of the seaside, you felt the scent and sound of everything wash over you and slip your mind into a state of relaxation. It had been months since you'd felt this free.

Hands on the smooth, grainy railing of the porch, you stood on your tiptoes, the edge pressing against your belly. The sea breeze tickled your hair around your neck, the skirts of your white dress brushing your ankles.

It had been four weeks of bliss; of waking up with cotton sheets tangled around your legs, of feeling the sun freckle your skin that was no longer pale as death. A whimsical month of sand in every crease, of collecting seashells the length of your little fingernail and spreading them over the kitchen counter to admire.

You were supposed to escape this way. To get better. But the little details of this place painted a picture of home; the very spot you were not supposed to think of. Truly, the great, roaring mass of water was more alike to what you had left behind than the thing itself.

The ocean was the same blue of his eyes, contained secrets of the same magnitude. The tide ebbed and flowed the same way he did. There was one marked difference, though. When you thought of him, resentment and sorrow bubbled in your chest to create a confusing swirl of unexplainable feeling. You did not feel this toward the sea.

Fisting the skirt of your dress, you ran a hand up the column of the house. The porch was strewn with sand, the pastel walls of the Victorian exterior worn with time but adding to the charm. This place had become your sanctuary. And you had your doubts about whether you would be allowed to return.

Padding inside, the knotted rug cleared the majority of the sand from your feet, but you knew some would manage to stick and track onto the hardwood floor. Your two round suitcases were packed, the few belongings from your month away tucked away and reminding you how little space things actually take up. Mass does not account for the memories.

Looking around at this little space that had become your home, you felt a familiar pang of dread tap your chest. You had been avoiding it- the idea that you must leave. The idea of returning to what had gotten you sent here in the first place.

A dam of memories began to crack, but you resisted, holding the splits in the structure with your fingers. I am better now. The whole point of you coming here was to recover. That single dreadful flicker of a recollection sparked, but you held it down.

Tires crunching on gravel. An involuntary shudder racked your body. It was time. Funnily enough, this felt more like a punishment than coming here had. You bent and picked up your suitcases, slipping your feet into the black flats that would deem your ensemble appropriate enough for return.

Your companions for the month had already departed, quiet goodbyes and well wishes in their wake. They knew what was waiting for you, and doubly they knew how you dreaded it.

Shutting the door behind you felt like forcing two magnets away from each other. You slowly pulled your hand away from the doorknob, thumb pressing into the embossed symbol in the center. When you looked down at your hand, you could see the imprint of it in the skin. A rose.

Using that hand to bunch your skirts again, you descended the creaky stairs and down the willowy, crunchy path of seashells and rocks to where the black-suited driver was holding the door of the car for you. He eyed you when you bent to pick a handful of beach aster before continuing your walk of doom.

Shutting the door behind you, he offered a polite tip of the hat, which you acknowledged with a smile. It wasn't his fault you were headed back into the lion's den.

The entire drive, you stared out the window, eyes chasing the sights as they whizzed by, back into the past already; those golden hours you missed already. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as the reality of it hit you.

Good-bye sandy sunsets and shining waters.

It was your final farewell as you were forced to greet empty halls and lonely luxury.

Back into the bell jar.

If you had wings, they would be wilted. The second you saw the mansion, looming over the car like a monster, you recoiled, shrinking back into your seat and wishing you could sink into the spot. Maybe if you willed it hard enough you would disappear and leave nothing but a white dress with a pocket full of seashells behind.

You shivered, folding your hands around your arms as goosebumps sprouted. Longing for the crackling fire in the hearth of your beach house, you tried to sit up straight. It wouldn't do well to have a shaky appearance.

Being in the car made you more anxious than the idea of returning. Clenching your fingers around your arms, you breathed in and out, tried to count to one hundred. The car ride to the beach house had elicited a similar reaction, your nerves getting the better of you.

The golden gates parted for the car, and that was when you saw him waiting, hands folded behind his back, standing on the pale marble steps leading up to the house. His hair was so light it was nearly the same color, the red of his coat a stark contrast. In your absence you had forgotten the season, and suddenly you regretted your choice in dress. The thin straps would do little to protect you from the cold.

As you stepped out of the car, using the hand of the driver as leverage, Coriolanus moved forward toward you. His icy blue eyes roved over your appearance; sun-warmed skin, simple dress, some beach aster stuck behind your ear and more peeking out of your pocket. The tiny shells in the same opening slightly jingled as you met him halfway.

"Darling," he greeted, his voice low. The only other people out here were the Peacekeepers used for the mansion's security and the driver of the car, who was taking your two circular suitcases from the back.

You lifted your chin, taking his offered hand and letting him help you up the steps. Repressing a shiver because the house was only a minute away, you eyed the barren trees lining the walls. There were only a few dried, stiffened leaves clinging to the spindly branches. Even the roses were trimmed now, at the stems.

Disappointment twinged at your insides. One of the only things you'd been looking forward to was escaping through the garden. Coriolanus noticed your face fall at the sight, and he squeezed your hand. "Some of them were cut and moved inside. We can have more brought in if you would like."

Nodding slightly, you gave him a soft smile, doing your best to hide from him the dread eating you from the inside out. Stepping through the lacquered white doors, the chill of the mansion made you shiver in a way unrelated to the temperature. Coriolanus secured his arm around you, rubbing your elbow. "You must be freezing in that dress. Come, let's get you something more...appropriate."

The disdain in his tone was hard to miss. But you knew he wasn't talking about your outfit. He wanted to transform you back into the woman he knew. In appearance only.

It felt like an attack. Coriolanus wanted to scrub from you any remnants of your escape, of the time you hadn't been under his shadow. Truthfully, you couldn't be too upset for it. He didn't know of the haven in your beloved ocean. All he knew was that you'd been away from him.

"Of course," you whispered, lifting your eyes to meet his. Your husband caressed your cheek briefly, an unrecognizable look flickering in his irises.

It quickly diminished though, and you were then escorted up the stairs, walking hand in hand down the hallway with him. His shiny shoes clicked on the tile, your flats barely making a sound.

Stopping at your door, Coriolanus turned to you, searching your eyes for any sign of discomfort. "Will you come down for dinner?" he questioned quietly, voice barely echoing in the expanse of the hallway.

Nodding slightly, you managed a little upturn of your lips, feeling like you were performing. "Of course."

A sort of relieved expression fell over him, and he lifted your joined hands, kissing your fingers. "Wonderful. I'll let you freshen up."

Once you were behind the door of your bedroom, you leaned against it, sliding down to the floor. It was over. The first part was over. Maybe this will have been the hardest.

You stared at the ceiling for a moment before getting to your feet, watching the sunset cast shadows on the floor and expose the dust of the air. At least the same moon would appear when the night fell.

Wandering into the bathroom, you studied your reflection for a moment. You didn't look at all like the woman who'd left these walls four weeks ago. But you didn't look like who you'd been before being her either. Now you were some foreign, unfamiliar thing whose nature you had not yet uncovered.

It was like stumbling upon the Gardens of Babylon; something inside you that there had been whispers of, but nobody had known existed. And now you weren't sure if you were entirely yourself. Everything you were before was shelled inside like a nesting doll, but you hadn't the courage to uncover it.

Tearing your eyes away from the mirror, you slipped off your shoes, feeling the cool marble beneath your feet. Checkered tiles. You had picked them out so long ago.

Turning your head to the side, you saw it standing there, like a lone specter. The smooth, rounded bathtub, like a cupped hand. Reaching out, you lightly ran a finger down the side of it. It wasn't the same one. Of course it wouldn't be.

You wondered what he'd done with it. Had it destroyed, maybe? He'd blame anything but you for what happened.

Even an inanimate object that had been doing nothing but what it was created to.

Dressed in a light pink sweater tucked into a matching skirt, a belt cinching your waist, you sat primly diagonal from him, picking at the food on your plate. Long gone were the beach asters, any grains of sand that may have clung to you. A shower had erased it.

Now you were back, settled into the space you'd inhabited before. Even though your heart wasn't the same shape anymore, you fit it perfectly.

He was looking up every few seconds, as if you'd disintegrate if he didn't always have one eye on you. You didn't question it.

Determinedly casual, Coriolanus commented, "The doctors reported well of your conditions." He speared a potato with his fork, bringing it to his mouth.

Hands folded in your lap, you let your chin move up and down as a response. It had been a topic in question for you; how he was going to broach the situation. If it was up to you, it would never be spoken of again.

Your husband set his utensil down with a gentle clatter, resting his elbow on the table, palm facing the chandelier above. Recognizing what he wanted, you lifted one of your hands, setting it limply atop his. His fingers closed around yours, squeezing.

Somehow you mustered the courage to meet his eyes, that deep blue that so reminded you of your missed getaway. Coriolanus rested his other hand on yours, thumb rubbing your knuckles. He made sure you were looking right at him when he said, "I apologize, darling. For everything I did to-" he cut himself off with a swallow. "I'm sorry."

Casting your eyes to the side for a moment, you noticed for the first time the vase of roses sitting modestly close to your setting. These weren't ordered, no, they were from the garden. Perhaps cut today even, spared until the last minute before you arrived unlike their stemless companions.

Turning back to him, you took in a light breath, lifting your free hand to touch the sliver of a belt over your stomach. Tracing the little buckle for a moment, your eyes found his as a question you'd been wanting to ask for a long time slipped past your lips. "Why did you do it?"

Coriolanus' face hardened slightly, but then his thumb traveling your hand found your wedding ring and his shoulders relaxed. "It was to keep you safe."

"I wasn't allowed to leave," you retorted quietly, some newfound bravery inside you urging the words from your mind. "Months trapped in this house, allowed to see no one-"

"To keep you safe," he reiterated. If it were not for the sincerity in his eyes you would have thought him cruel for feeding you the same statement he had before your trip to the seaside. "Darling...all of this was to keep you protected."

"And look where that's gotten us." Your soft response was punctuated by you pulling your hand back, clasping it with the other on your thigh. Freshly painted a pale rose color, your nails poked at your skin when you balled your hands up, an attempt to keep control. Quietly, you added, "The media got ahold of an account of my spending. Apparently, an inside source gave it to them."

Your husband sat upright, a frown creasing his brow. "I thought you weren't supposed to look at those things while-"

"I didn't." You looked down. "Not on purpose. One of the caretakers left a magazine out and I... saw my name. I couldn't help it."

"Did it say what you were spending on?" Coriolanus leaned back again, and you could almost see the wheels in his head turning.

"No," you shook your head, fingers coming up to touch the space between your eyebrows. A headache was coming, you could feel it. "But they had an exact amount."

"Anyone working with our finances wouldn't know what happened," Coriolanus reasoned, fingers thrumming the arm of his chair. His hair looked a little mussed, you observed. Like he'd been running his hand through it. You could see the gel wearing off, his natural curls beginning to take form again. How you'd loved petting his hair before. And how he'd loved letting you. "I'll have the staff cleared out and replace them."

Clenching your jaw so you wouldn't cry, you nodded. One tear escaped, trickling down your cheek as a wave of shame crashed over you. Unable to help yourself, you put your hands over your face, whispering, "It was awful, Coryo. The number was so high. And now everyone thinks I'm spending the country's money on parties and dresses."

"Darling. Darling." There was the sound of a chair being pushed back, and then you heard him step to you, two hands pulling you to stand and fall into him. Despite your qualms, you let your arms wrap around him, face pressing into the spot over his heart, where the steady thump nudged your cheek. He buried his nose in your hair, a gentle kiss finding a home there. "We know the truth, sweetheart. That's the most important thing."

"But you're the president," you sniffled, all previous fear forgotten as you remembered how good it felt to be in his arms. Living in his shadow also meant being protected by it. "I'm making you look awful. It won't be good for the reelection."

"I don't give a damn about the reelection if you're not well," Coriolanus murmured into your hair. "This isn't your fault, it's the staff's for letting this information get out. I won't stop spending my money on doctors as long as you're unwell." He rubbed your back. "I don't care if the tabloids think it's something else."

A dry sob erupted from your lips at his words, and he tightened his arms around you. You hated yourself for finding comfort in him after what he'd done.

"Let's get you upstairs," he said quietly, and you nodded into him. He made a move to take a step but hesitated. In a careful gesture, Coriolanus leaned down, securing his arm under your knees and lifting you up. You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning your head against his shoulder and closing your eyes. The headache that had begun to make an appearance was now pounding, and you fisted your husband's shirt as it did.

Aware of your discomfort, Coriolanus swept you upstairs, and before you knew it you were being laid on your soft bed, atop the covers as he went to the closet to find something for you to sleep in. Sitting up, you began to undo your belt, sliding it through the buckle and winding it up neatly. You removed your skirt, unzipping the side, and then your sweater by the time he returned, one of your old favorite nightdresses in hand.

He bunched it in his hands, holding the neck open. "Lift your arms."

You did, and he slid the fabric over your head, straightening it out over your body. Wrestling your arms through the openings, you murmured. "The bathtub's new."

He paused, seeming surprised that you had brought it up. The sight of you was sure to be a sorry one, with messy hair and teary eyes, sitting in a little white nightdress, the skirt of which was messily pinched and spread over your thighs. Kneeling at your feet, he looked at your legs, one hand coming to smooth the fabric over them. When it reached your knees, the hem brushing the bone, he muttered, "In no world was I going to keep the old one."

Plunging your head underwater, you felt the thoughts numb. Every second you stayed under; the noise stopped. One moment you had hope of the end, and then the next a pair of hands were breaking the surface and yanking you from your peace.

Staring up at him, you felt the fog begin to settle over you again. Blinking tiredly, you said, "You could have."

Coriolanus inhaled, resting his head on your knees. Then his arms moved, encircling your waist and now his head was buried in your stomach. You lifted your hand, hesitantly touching his hair. It was mostly soft, a little stiff in some places from the dried out, hours-old gel.

For a moment, you didn't think he would let go. But his arms loosened, and he looked up at you. The vulnerability etched in his roaring oceans of eyes nearly drew from you a gasp. He shook his head, and you could almost see the reflection of what he was thinking in the blue.

You, wet hair sticking to your chest, water dripping from your bare body and pooling beneath on the floor.

Coriolanus grasped your waist, watching your chest rise and fall with your breathing. He rubbed your side gently, something melancholy drizzling over the scene. "Did you do it...because I made you stay?"

The question made your motions through his hair stop, and he lifted his head. His eyes pierced your heart, but you were tired of withholding the truth. Your response was soft. "Week after week of being confined to this place. And you still won't even tell me why." The look on your face was answer enough for him.

Rising, Coriolanus leaned in, hand finding the crown of your head and holding you as he pressed a kiss to your hairline. He held his lips there for a long time. Broad and strong, he stood firm and steady in the tumultuous waves of your life, drawing you in like an unbendable force.

Thunder seemed to shake your being, the waters up to your neck. And yet there he was, unaffected by any storm, his arms open and willing. And suddenly you missed him, needed him like you had never needed anything before. Hands shaking, breathily, you asked, "Will you stay?"

Even after everything, after the history that defined you by being written, you were helpless without him. It was that love you'd never rescinded, that had bloomed when he slid his ring on your finger and had hardly even wilted when he imposed such a harrowing restriction upon you.

You wished you hated him.

He began to loosen his tie. It was discarded along with his shoes, shirt, jacket, and pants. Each item shed unsheathed the man beneath the president. And then you saw your Coryo again, the one you'd loved before he consumed the power bestowed on him.

Maybe you weren't the only one with multiple versions inside yourself. He was just better at uncovering them.

Had it been the president who'd given you strict orders to never step past the grounds? Who'd brushed away your pleas to leave even for a few hours, saying he'd send for more catalogs and books to keep you occupied? Who'd pried the shiny, embossed invitations from your hands when you begged to attend events with him?

You had thought it was the president who you'd walked in on in his study after you'd been pulled from the dripping throes of death, in a meeting with the doctor who'd thoroughly examined you. The president who stared at the wood of his desk, brow furrowed, backs of fingers covering his mouth as the doctor told him he would recommend for you to be sent away to recover fully. "Many of my patients have said the seaside, in particular, has improved their condition," he said in hushed tones. The president nodded.

When you whispered, "The seaside?" it was the president who noticed you, who got to his feet and was at your side in an instant.

But it was a different man whose eyes roved over your disheveled appearance; messy hair, wearing nothing but an oversized sweater that fell to your middle thighs and engulfed your hands. He slid an arm around you, bringing you to his chest and smoothing your hair. "Sweetheart, you need to be resting. Let me take you back to your room." Still in a daze from the prescribed sleeping pills, you nodded hazily and let him lead you upstairs with an arm around your shoulders.

It was that man who was getting into bed with you right now, pulling you into his arms and tucking you to his side, whispering that it was okay, that all you had to do now was sleep.

Instead of drifting off, your mind wandered near and far, body feeling heavy with all the answers you lacked. The burden of it all was nearly breaking you. And before you could regulate, the one thing on your mind was escaping your head through your mouth.

"Did you do it because you love somebody else?"

He stiffened, and then his arms tightened around you. You could feel him shake his head immediately, even though you couldn't see it. "No. Never." Coriolanus adjusted the position of his hands, splaying one over your tummy. He kissed your hair, mumbling into it. "I love you. You're my wife." His words were firm, and you felt some comfort return.

"Was it because you were ashamed of me?" You turned around, facing him. The only light was from the candle at your bedside, flickering dependently. He exhaled softly at your questioning, thumbing the side of your face. You asked in a small voice, "Did you want to hide me away?"

His head moved back and forth, declining your theory. "Darling, I have never been ashamed of you. Not once."

"But why else would you force me to stay where nobody can see me?" you asked quietly, on the verge of tears again. Over your weeks away, the medical care staff had discouraged you from wondering about such things, telling you they would only send your head into a spiral. But now, in the last honest moments of waking, you were incapable of holding back.

Coriolanus' face was tender, and he cupped a big hand over your head. You could hear the words before he said them and you dreaded their arrival. Shaking your head, your lower lip trembled as he breathed life into the phrase once again.

"To keep you safe."

Despondently, you watched him, giving no response as he gave you a final peck to your temple and tucked your head under his chin. The irony of the statement was not lost on you. He had protected you from everything except yourself.

Nobody tells you what to do once you survive. Once you are past the point of danger, there is nothing but wide, open space in front of you that only serves to collapse what you have thought you healed.

Even after your self-inflicted brush with death, the person whom you loved most still refused to give you the one answer that would bring you peace.

After blowing out the candle, it did not take Coriolanus long to slip into sleep. You laid awake for hours afterward, thoughts piling up like discarded flowers after a wedding.

You had held him as your lover; fulfilling your marriage vows before they were uttered. He was forever, adoring in every sense of the word. But now you couldn't help but feel as if he was holding you for a different reason.

He was concealing you. And if it be the will of Coriolanus Snow, undiscovered you would remain.

Though he had given himself to you, it radiated off him. The shame of being yours.

𝓝𝓮𝔁𝓽 𝓐𝓬𝓽

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thoseboysinblue · 1 year

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I Kissed Someone New Last Night

Christian Pulisic x reader

You visit your best friend, Christian, in Milan after a break up.

Word count: 4150+

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, mentions of weight loss, mentions of death of parents

Song Inspo: Kelsea Ballerini's Penthouse (Healed Version)

Requested: No

"Come to Milan" he pleads with you through the phone, "I'm worried about you, y/n."

"Christian, you know I can't do that," you frown at him.

"Please," he says quietly, "you've lost too much weight, you're not taking care of yourself, and no offense but you kind of look like shit," he tries to lighten the mood just a bit.

The truth is, there is nothing stopping you from hopping on the next flight to see your best friend and both of you know it. You broke off your engagement a few months ago, after finding out your fiancé was cheating on you. You also recently quit your job because no matter how hard you tried you always were bumping into him and you desperately needed a fresh start.

You had considered moving to Florida to be closer to Christian's family, the only real support system you had left. And even though he was far away, Christian never failed to be there for you through every heartbreak you had endured in your short life.

The night your mom died when the two of you were in high school, he dropped everything to be by your side, staying with you through all of it, holding you when you cried, staying strong for you when you completely fell apart.

He flew home as soon as he heard the news of your father's passing a few years later, and again, he was your rock. As everything in your life seemed to crash down, he was the constant, steady presence.

His family had welcomed you with open arms, including you in their holidays, family vacations, and trips to visit Christian and watch him play. They always made sure you felt like you had a place to call home. In recent years, you had opted to go to Christian for holidays so that he wouldn't have to spend them alone, the two of you setting about creating your own traditions. That was until your ex came along and you felt like you should spend holidays with him, but it broke your heart knowing Christian was spending them alone again.

Christian never really liked your ex, he couldn't put his finger on exactly why, but something about him made his guard go up. And it broke his heart when he found out he was right all along, maybe if he had said something he could have spared you the heartbreak, but you seemed happy and he wasn't going to interfere if that was truly the case.

"Come see me, I'll take care of you, I'll feed you pasta and let you get drunk on Italian wine. We can see the city together, I haven't gotten to do much exploring yet. It will be good for you to get away, take a break, get some fresh air, come on y/n, please?" he continues to plead with you.

"Ok" you whisper and you see his face light up, immediately grabbing his laptop and searching for flights before you have a chance to change your mind.

"How soon can you leave, looks like I can get you on a flight tonight, or tomorrow," he grins into the phone.

"Christian, you don't have to do that, I'll book something," you roll your eyes at him. He never failed to be generous and take care of you, whatever you needed, you didn't even have to ask most of the time.

"Nope. Not happening. Tonight or tomorrow, y/n? You better give me an answer or I'm closing h my eyes and clicking on whatever I land on," he chuckles.

"Fuck it, tonight," you grin at him, the first genuine smile he's seen from you in as long as he can remember.

You have to admit that the thought of landing in Italy tomorrow morning to spend however long you wanted with Christian makes you a little dizzy.

"Ok, pack your bags sweetheart, I'm sending you your boarding pass now," he smiles at you, "fuck I'm so excited to see you, it's been ages since we've gotten to spend time together."

"Christian, I just saw you this summer in Florida," you chuckle at him.

"Yeah, but that was less than 24 hours and you had the dickhead with you so it doesn't really count," he huffs at you.

"Christian this boarding pass says seat 4C, you did not just book me a first class ticket did you, you jackass."

"I sure did, because I can, and because I wanted to, and because there wasn't much left on the flight anyways. Now, get off the phone and start packing. Call me when you leave for the airport. Love you, y/n."

"Love you too, Chris." you shake your head at him before you hang up.

A few hours later, you have taken care of anything that might need your attention in the next few weeks since you were unsure of exactly when you would be back. You had packed and showered, and were set to leave for the airport. Making one final check that you had everything you needed, you call Christian, who answers sleepily, "I'm headed to the airport," you smile, even though he can't see you. "Ok, I'll see you in the morning," he says through a yawn, "safe travels."

"Thank you for this" you whisper but you can hear him snoring through the phone so you quietly end the call, after whispering another "love you."

You phone dings when you turn it off of airplane mode and you look down to see a message from Christian.

Christian: ciao bella 🤌🏻 there will be a car waiting for you to take you to my apartment. I'll be in training when you land, but should be home when you get there. Can't wait to see you 🫶🏻 Love you.

Y/N: oh god, am I going to be subjected to your attempts at learning Italian?

Y/N: thank you for the flight and arranging the car. I'll meet you at home. I can't wait to see you either. Love you, Chris 🫶🏻

Christian: do not insult my Italian, y/n. On my way home now, see you there 😍

When you arrive, he is waiting outside for you, pulling you into a warm embrace. It feels like he might crush you, but being in his arms heals your soul just a tiny bit.

"You've bulked up," you chuckle, your head resting against his chest. "You're skin and bones" he whispers leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

"Come on" he says retrieving your bags from the car and thanking the driver, waving off your attempts to help carry your things.

He leads you inside his new apartment, sitting your bags just inside the door before intertwining his fingers with yours, "let me show you around," he smiles at you adoringly.

He leads you from room to room, letting you know his plans for each of the ones that aren't quiet fully furnished yet. He grabs your bags as you follow him up the stairs opening the door to what you presume is his bedroom.

"Christian, this is gorgeous," you say taking in the room, the view out of his window to die for.

"It is," he smiles, never taking his eyes off of you.

You and Christian always share a bed when you are together so you aren't sure why it makes you slightly nervous to think about staying with him now, but it does. Your stomach flips as he moves your bag into the walk in closet, sitting your toiletry bag on the bathroom counter.

"Are you tired?" he whispers tucking a loose strand of hair around your ear and settling his hand on you jaw, smiling a the way you lean into him and shake your head, your eyes already a little brighter.

"Hungry?" he grins when you nod.

"You feel up to going somewhere, or do you want me to cook here, or we can order in?"

"We can go out, but can I have a few minutes to freshen up? You know I always feel gross after a long flight."

"Of course," he smiles, leading you into the bathroom, grabbing a towel for you and turning on the shower.

"Thank you," you whisper, wrapping your arms around his waist, "for everything," a couple of tears slip from your eyes which you try to hide from him but he definitely notices.

"Always, y/n" he breathes out, kissing you on the forehead.

After your shower, you wrap yourself in a towel, walking into Christian's room so that you can grab some clothes out of your suitcase. Christian is sitting on the bed when you walk out of the bathroom and his heart sinks when he realizes just how thin you've gotten. He knows it's just from the stress, and that you tend to lose weight when you are dealing with heavy emotions, and that you always return to your normal with a little TLC, usually from him.

He doesn't say anything, he knows he doesn't have to, you can read perfectly well the look of concern on his face.

"I'll be fine, Christian," you whisper as he nods.

"I know you will be now," he offers you a weak smile, but the look of concern is still evident.

You quickly get dressed, noticing that Christian has already unpacked your things and placed them on the empty shelves in his closet, your heart fluttering at the kind gesture.

"Come here" he gestures, patting the empty space on the bed beside him.

You waste no time in climbing over him and tucking yourself into his side, your head resting on his chest as he scratches your back.

"You know I'm here for anything you need, right? Forever." he speaks quietly.

You nod, allowing the familiar sound of his heart and his scent to wash over you. You never feel more cared for than you do when you are wrapped in Christian's arms, his warm embrace always soothing you, no matter what is going on in your life.

"You sure you don't want a nap," he asks quietly, a small yawn escaping his lips.

"We can nap if you are tired, Chris," you whisper.

"That's not what I asked," he chuckles.

Your stomach rumbles loudly and he kisses you on the top of the head, "food first, then naps."

He takes you to a small restaurant close to his apartment, filling you with as much pasta as you can hold before you make the short walk back to his place.

Once you arrive back at Christian's, he closes the room darkening shades in his living room and the two of you settle down on the couch to watch a movie.

Before long, you fall asleep wrapped up in Christian's arms and he does the same. You aren't sure how long you've slept when you stir slightly, waking Christian up.

"You ok?" he whispers into the dark, a sigh escaping his lips when you nod and nuzzle your face into his chest. You let out a giggle when his stomach rumbles, "you can't be hungry again, Chris."

"I'm starving, actually" he chuckles when you move slightly allowing him to stand up and pull you to your feet. He makes the two of you a sandwich, both of you eating before heading up to get changed for bed.

You wander out of the en-suite bathroom in Christian's room after finishing your skincare to find Christian sitting in the bed, already under the covers.

You give him a hesitant look, chewing on your bottom lip, "you sure you want me to stay in here, I could stay in the guest room or..." you trail off as he stands up and makes his way over to you wrapping you in a hug.

"Why wouldn't you stay in here, we've been sharing a bed since we were kids, y/n," he says quietly his hand stroking your back.

"I don't know," you whisper, "I just wasn't sure you wanted me in here."

"Of course I do," he says taking your hand and guiding you towards the bed, "but only if you want to be in here. I can definitely get you set up in the guest room if you would feel more comfortable."

"No, this is fine," you offer him a smile, your moment of anxiety passing.

"You know, I think my parents always thought we were up to something when we kept sharing a bed when we got older," he chuckles, "led to me getting the talk from my dad on more than one occasion."

"No, really?" you groan, your cheeks painted with embarrassment as you try to hide your face with your hands.

"Mmmhmmm" he laughs pulling your hands from your face, "I think they were worried that we might figure out that one of us is a boy and the other is a girl when we were younger, but as we got older, I think there were secretly rooting for it."

"I figured they would eventually put a stop to it, but I guess they trusted you far more than the trusted me," he grins.

"Guess we've disappointed them then," you chuckle tucking yourself into his side as he kisses the top of your head.

"Sleep well, y/n, wake me if you need anything," he whispers as he turns off the lights leaving the two of you wrapped up in nothing but the darkness and each other's arms.

The next several days in Milan Christian works to improve your mood as much as he can, enjoying when he catches flickers of you returning to your normal self.

You wake up early with him, enjoying quiet mornings before he has to leave for training. He even asks if he can bring you along for a few sessions giving you a chance to catch up with his old Chelsea teammates. You spend afternoons wandering the city and learning Italian with him. Evenings, which he knows you typically dread, are spent, snuggled up together watching movies or binge watching some of your favorite series.

Being constantly surrounded by Christian's presence is working wonders for you, you can feel yourself healing from everything you've been through the past few months. During a face time with Christian's mom she mentions that she can tell both of you are in a better place mentally and physically and that she's glad you are getting to spend some time together.

You cannot deny how much you enjoy being with him, here in a safe bubble, seemingly protected from the outside world. And Christian, he's enjoying your company more and more each day. Things are seamless and comfortable between the two of you, conversations are easy, and the silences are never awkward.

He has been thrilled to have you with him as he embarks on a new season with Milan. You've been able to travel to away games with him and we're blown away on your first trip to the San Siro.

One particularly warm evening after a match, you walk out of the bathroom in a pair of pajamas that show far more skin than any others you've worn around him. You pretend not to notice the way his breath hitches in his throat when he sees you and the way his eyes follow you as you slip into bed next to him.

"You ok?" you whisper, resting your head on his chest noticing the way his heart is hammering away.

"Couldn't be better," he sighs, trailing his hands over the exposed skin on your back and shoulders noticing when your skin erupts in goosebumps, a reaction he's not used to from you.

"I've got the next couple of days off, I thought we might take a little trip to Lake Como tomorrow, have some lunch, see the area," he says quietly, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"That sounds nice," you whisper, turning to place a kiss to his chest.

"And I have a surprise for you tomorrow night," he smiles as you turn to look him in the eyes, resting your chin on his chest.

"You know I hate surprises," you grin, a glint of playfulness in your eyes.

"I know, but this is a good one, and you're not getting it out of me," he grins back at you, tickling your sides and making you squeal.

"Now, let's get some sleep, we have an early morning tomorrow," he says, reaching to turn off the light and gesturing for you to turn on your side so that he can be the big spoon.

"Good night y/n," he whispers, "love you," as he places a feather light kiss on your shoulder, so light you almost don't notice it.

"Good night, Chris, love you too." You whisper back to him, intertwining your fingers with his.

The next morning, you both wake up early and have a quick breakfast before leaving for the day's adventure. Lake Como is more beautiful than you could imagine and you share a lunch that borderlines on romantic at a small cafe that overlooks the lake.

"I can't believe we are here," you nudge him with your shoulder as you walk down a small path towards the waters edge.

"I'm sure you could sweep some lucky girl off of her feet here," you chuckle at him noticing the way his cheeks turn a light shade of pink.

"Probably, but that's not what today is about is it," he rolls his eyes at you, "today is about me and you spending time together, not me scoping out potential date spots."

"I know, but what better place to fall in love than Italy, Christian," you say, twirling yourself around in front of him, missing the absolutely smitten look on his face.

"Maybe," he shrugs his shoulders, his eyes never leaving you.

"Are you going to tell me what this surprise is?" you ask him, looping your arm through his and resting your head on his shoulder. Noticing the way his skin reacts to your fingers tracing over his skin.

You like Kelsea Ballerini right?" he asks, as he rests his head on the top of yours as you both of you stare out over the water at the colorful houses dotting the horizon.

"I do, her new album is practically an anthem for my life right now, why?" you breathe out, shuddering as his arm wraps around your waist and pulls you closer to him.

"She's playing at the stadium tonight, and I might have gotten tickets for us," he says lowly, tilting his head up so that he can look you in the eyes and see your reaction.

"Playing at the stadium, as in your stadium? In Milan?" you nearly squeal, turning to fully face him as he nods.

"Thank you," your voice comes out low, barely above a whisper as tears well in your eyes, "for this, and for everything, you've always been the one person I could count on no matter what, and I honestly don't know what I would do without you."

You press a gentle kiss to his cheek, lingering a bit longer than normal as you notice him swallow dryly.

Leaning back slightly, you take in his features, suddenly mesmerized by his beauty. You've always known Christian was attractive, that much was obvious to you, but Italy has done him a world of good. His summer tan has lingered a bit longer, freckles dancing over his skin, and his eyes seem a bit brighter and more full of hope than you've seen them in a while. You catch your gaze lingering over his lips, noticing how soft and plump they are and wondering what they might feel like pressed against your own.

Christian has been your best friend for as long as you can remember, there isn't a single core memory of yours that doesn't involve him, being here with him the past couple of weeks, his patience, support and attentiveness have healed parts of you you didn't know needed healing.

Part of you never thought it was possible to develop feelings for him beyond friendship, and yet, when he's looking at you the way he is at this very moment, it makes you wonder if there couldn't be something more there.

"You're staring," he whispers, enjoying the flood of color that rushes to your cheeks.

"Am I not allowed to stare at my best friend? You're kind of beautiful you know?" you say, your eyes never leaving his.

"You're the beautiful one," he whispers, leaning down and glancing at your lips, almost as if he's thinking of kissing them before kissing the tip of your nose.

You turn, facing the horizon again as his arms squeeze your waist. "I love it here," you breathe out, feeling him nod as he rests his chin on your shoulder, but you aren't quite sure if by "here" you mean your actual location, or if you mean in Christian's arms.

"We should go," he gives you a gentle squeeze and slides his hand into yours.

The car ride home is quiet, he can tell you're lost in your own thoughts and he'd give anything to know what you are thinking about as you stare out of the window. Truthfully, he's a bit lost in his on thoughts as well, trying to come to terms with everything he's been feeling over the last few days.

Back at his apartment, you start getting ready for the concert, Christian ordering dinner for the two of you to eat as you get ready. You pick out a flowy dress, something that accentuates your best features, wanting to look pretty for yourself, and you catch yourself thinking that you also want to look pretty for him. You want him to be proud to have you with him, not that he's ever made you feel otherwise.

Once you are finally ready to go, you walk out of his bathroom about the same time as he walks out of his closet, also dressed and ready to go. You both silently stare at each other, soaking one another in before his lips curl slightly at the edges as he makes his way over to you.

"You look beautiful as always," he smiles, pressing a kiss to your cheek, dangerously close to the corner of your mouth.

"So do you," you blush slightly at his compliment as he takes your hand and leads you to the car waiting to pick you up.

The concert is amazing, Christian never leaves your side, and most of the night he has one or both arms wrapped around your waist.

As the first notes of "Penthouse" ring out around the stadium he moves so that he is standing behind you, both arms around your waist and his chin resting on your shoulder as he gently sways with you to the music.

Tears well in your eyes at the words that seem so very personal to you, a few spill over as Christian grips onto your hips turns you around. He brings his hands up to cup your face as he brushes the tears from your cheeks with his thumbs as the music fades out.

You're staring at each other, both of you knowing exactly what is coming next, as she belts out the healed version of "I kissed someone new last night, and now I don't care where your sleeping baby," Christian presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft and slow, and without a moment's hesitation you grip your fingertips into his t-shirt as you melt into the kiss; his lips slotting perfectly against yours, just as you had imagined they would. Suddenly, it feels like all of the pieces have fallen into place.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against yours, "I love you, y/n" he says quietly, only loud enough for you to hear. A couple of tears fall from your eyes, as you nod and say "I love you too, Christian."

"No, baby, I need you to understand what I'm saying. I'm in love with you, I am desperately in love with you," he says as he bumps his nose against yours.

"I know, and I'm in love with you too," you grin, a squeal escaping your lips as he picks you up and spins you around.

"Stay in Italy with me, I can't bare for you to leave me," he says as he pulls you closer to him, burying his face into your neck, "we can both start over here, and we can start building a life together," he says hesitantly, searching your features for an answer he is hoping will be yes.

You nod and he crashes his lips back to yours in a much heavier yet still reserved kiss considering you are in public.

"So you're staying," he mumbles against your lips.

"I'm staying" you grin, "until you're sick of me."

"That's never going to happen sweetheart," he smiles sweetly, "never."

Tag list:

@chelseagirl98 @neverinadream @masonspulisic @pulisicsgirl @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @nyctophilic0vitnir @lunamelona @tall-tanned-tattoo @lizzypotter14

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic fluff

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tigergirltail · 4 months

Text

TIGER HRT CHAPTER 4 - MONTH 3 - GROWING PAINS

First - Prev - Next

Everything hurts.

I started noticing it about two weeks after my first dose. It felt like a dull headache at first, but over the next month it spread to pretty much my entire body.

I had to start working from home, and eventually it got bad enough that I could only put in a few hours of work each day. My boss is a reasonable enough guy, but he wasn't going to pay a full time salary for part time hours, so I had to take a salary cut.

Luckily, my partner is around to take care of daily errands, not to mention being there to reassure and comfort me when the pain gets bad. They've been thinking about seeing if Lindwurm HRT is a thing, but they don't want to get the process started until I'm in the clear and can take care of myself again.

Gods I love them.

The reason the pain is happening, as best I can tell, is that my skeletal structure is already changing. I've gotten at least an inch taller, and my face has been reshaping into a feline muzzle. My teeth are getting sharper, and I'm developing proper fangs. I also noticed a little while ago that my fingernails and toenails had receded into their respective digits, which sucks for two reasons - I can't paint fingernails I don't have, and they are sore as HELL when I put any amount of pressure on them. I have to be REALLY careful with how I type to not inflict agony on myself. I'm also feeling my tail growing in, and even if it hurts, it's euphoric as HELL. A tail was always the part I wanted most out of this.

It's weird, the skeletal changes weren't supposed to happen this early. I've been trying to reach Dr. Erian about it, but he's constantly busy, probably because of the sudden surge of people looking for Humanity Removal Therapy.

Other than that, I've been getting areas of white and black fur coming in - mostly on my arms and legs, but a little bit on my face and ears - ears that are gradually reshaping and migrating. Nothing to report on hearing sensitivity, but I think my night vision is getting better.

I did a little bit of looking around for anyone with similar pain experiences. I got my hopes up when I found a girl, Antonina, who had a painful experience with Cat HRT, but it turns out it's because she took the rumoured Fifteen Minute version. She described the pain as "like bathing in an active volcano".

It leaves me wondering whether I would have preferred a 15-minute lava bath over a months-long full-body headache.

I ended up reaching out to her anyway, just because I wanted to know what I was in for in the endgame and feline HRT is rarer than I thought it would be. Sounds like the prey drive is the real deal - she keeps feeling the urge to bite this one girl who's on mouse HRT.

We've been spending some time comparing notes and getting to know each other. It's nice to know someone else who's going through this thing, even if our experiences aren't exactly one-to-one.

I also talked to my mother for the first time in nearly a year. I went No Contact with her a while back because she was only getting more obnoxious and combative about me being trans, but I figured changing my species is a big enough deal that I should keep her in the loop.

Besides, my savings had nearly dried up and I needed to ask her for money.

It… did not go well. She hadn't heard of therian HRT before, and once I explained it, she started panicking about how I'm "mutilating my body" with "untested treatments". I think I also heard her cry something about how her "son" is "killing himself", which is just multiple layers of insensitive.

At least she sent me some money. Hopefully it'll be enough to last until my transformation stops being agonizing and I can go back to work, and then I can go right back to pretending my family doesn't exist.

At roughly the three-month mark, I have a check-in video call with Dr. Erian. From the moment his face appears on screen, though, I can tell something is wrong. He seems… older, somehow.

"Hello, Miss Alexis.", he offers. He sounds tired. Sorrowful, even.

"Hey, doc." I have to ask about it. "Everything okay? You seem a bit tired."

"Nothing to worry about Miss Alexis, just the ordinary stresses of daily life."

Liar. I know I'm not entitled to details of your personal life, much less your professional secrets, but I know when something is eating at someone.

"…Does the word 'crossroads' mean anything to you, Miss Alexis?"

Huh? That came a bit out of left field. "I've… heard some other therian HRT patients use the term, but I don't know much of the details. Something about a point of no return?"

"Something of the sort." He lowers his head and seems to go from sorrowful to downright grim. "There will come a time, Miss Alexis, when you will have to make a very important decision in your care, and I ask that you do so with great consideration for the consequences."

I recoil a little in my seat. "Yeah… Of course I will. Any decision I make, even reaching out to you in the first place, I don't take it lightly."

"Good… That's good." His demeanor shifts back to his stoic, clinical self. I don't know what just happened, but he went somewhere for a moment there.

"Now then, I did receive your messages, I apologize for not getting back to you. You mentioned you were experiencing persistent and debilitating whole-body soreness?"

"Yeah. I can't even leave the apartment most days, it hurts so much."

"Odd… You are taking the treatment as directed, yes?"

"Of course. One tablespoon a week, just like it says on the bottle."

I see his eyes twitch behind his glasses. Did I say something wrong?

"…Teaspoon."

I cock my head to the side. "Say again?"

"You mean one TEASPOON a week, yes?"

I feel my heart sink. The dark smear on the dosage information… I could have sworn it said '1 tbsp/week'.

"…Could you hold on a second please?" I mute the mic and call out to my partner to bring the bottle of tiger HRT over. When they do, I unmute and hold it up to the webcam. I hear Dr. Erian take a sharp intake of breath as he notices the obscured instructions.

I set the bottle aside and the two of us share an awkward silence.

"So…", I begin. "…How bad is it?"

"The good news", he offers slowly, "is that you have only been taking three times the prescribed dose. An increased dose imbalances the growth rate of the different parts of your body, hence your pain and persistent weakness, but it could have been much worse."

I think back to the so-called Fifteen Minute version, and Antonina's description of it - like bathing in an active volcano.

Dr. Erian continues. "Assuming you return to a CORRECT dose, your growth rates will gradually level out over the course of the next month or so. It is my medical opinion that you should maintain a low-activity lifestyle until then, but you will eventually be able to return to your typical activity level, and you will also find that the physical effects become more… consistent."

"That's… reassuring. Thank you, doctor." I pause. Something I noticed a little while ago has been weighing on my mind. "There's one thing, though - do the treatments have… I guess you'd call them restorative or regenerative effects? I've noticed some old wounds aren't there anymore."

The doctor clicks his pen and brings up his notepad. "Interesting. Do go on, Miss Alexis."

"Well… I used to get lower back pain from a car crash injury I got a little over a year ago, but I haven't noticed it at all lately. Pretty much the only part that DOESN'T hurt… There also used to be some marks on my arm from a cat biting me when I was little." I give a slight smile. "The cat's name was Tiger, go figure."

Dr. Erian is writing the whole time I'm talking. "Yes, that is to be expected. Minor persistent injuries will fade over time as your body re-forms itself to a new baseline, even severe chronic symptoms may fade. If there are no other concerns…"

"Just one… Most of the other therian HRT patients I've talked to have gotten their meds as pills, so what's with the potion bottle?"

Dr. Erian pauses, and adjusts his glasses nervously, as if he's been caught out on something he doesn't want to admit to. "Well… advances in the field are occurring rapidly, and you are one of the more recent patients, so a more… streamlined option was available to you. I took the liberty of choosing the most compatible option based on your medical records, and that bottle is it."

"Okay… But what's IN it?"

"The active ingredients are antihominidone, which is your humanity-blocker, and a specialized formula of felistrogen, infused with white tiger genetic material. The rest of the fluid is a suspension used to dilute the effects, without which you would be looking at a short, but excruciating and potentially lethal process."

The Fifteen Minute version, I think to myself. I'm taking diluted Fifteen Minute meds. There's no WAY this isn't experimental, and I'M the experiment. I despise saying it, but maybe my mother was right to worry.

"But I'm afraid I really do have to go, Miss Alexis, my next appointment is waiting."

"G-gotcha. See ya, doctor."

---

Special thanks to @paintedbytosia for letting me write her in, and shoutout to @megamoonerjenny for coming up with 'antihominidone'

#trans #transgender #transwoman #tiger hrt #therian hrt #furry hrt #animal hrt #trans artist #queer artist #my art

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bellaxgiornata · 1 year

Text

All These Years [Part 3: "Betrayal"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 3.8k

a/n: This one is a very angsty installment because we get Elektra in it! And I know some of you probably love her (and I have no qualms with that), but she's definitely not good for Matt and I definitely played that up in this series because, well, angst. So I hope you enjoy because this one hurts... You can find the entire list of installments for this series on tumblr here. And y'all catch that foreshadow? Because the next one is titled "All the Broken Pieces" for a reason...

Tag list: @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @acharliecoxedfan

"Dude, no, how can you possibly think ramen sounds better than pizza right now?" Foggy asked.

"Because," you began, shooting Foggy a pointed look as the pair of you exited the elevator onto the floor of his dorm, "we had pizza last Saturday night. It's been over a month since we've gotten ramen. Therefore, ramen sounds better."

"There is no way soup trumps pizza!" Foggy disagreed.

The pair of you turned the corner of the hallway, Foggy and Matt’s dorm room coming into view. Shaking your head, you readjusted the weight of your backpack on your back.

"Ramen is so much more than just soup , Fog," you argued. "That's an absolute insult to ramen."

"It's glorified soup at best," Foggy stated firmly. "But pizza reigns supreme–especially supreme pizza."

The two of you came to a stop in front of his dorm room door, Foggy pulling his key from his pocket as he waggled his eyebrows at you, clearly proud of his joke. You laughed lightly, rolling your eyes as he turned and unlocked the door.

"Okay,” Foggy conceded as he opened the door, “how about we just order–"

But the sight before you both in the dorm room immediately cut him clean off. Your jaw dropped as you witnessed Matt, who was clearly naked under the covers, quickly rolling off of his very clearly naked girlfriend. Though she looked less bothered by the intrusion than Matt as she leisurely pulled the sheets up to cover herself.

"Oh, shit, sorry buddy," Foggy apologized in a rush, his cheeks turning pink. "I didn't–didn't realize you were here and doing things of a particular nature."

Matt held the sheets over his lower half, his bare upper torso exposed. His shoulders were heaving as he tried to catch his breath, an uncomfortable smile spreading on his flushed face as he focused his attention by the door where Foggy had spoken. All the while you tried hard not to stare at Matt’s exposed bare and muscled chest–something you noticed Elektra noticing.

And then jealousy abruptly unfurled in your gut once the scene before you really settled in over the surprise of seeing Matt shirtless. You hated Elektra. And you knew the sight of catching them having sex was going to be forever painfully seared into your mind now. Your heart felt like it was withering in your chest as she settled in comfortably beside Matt in his bed. Stomach twisting into knots as you tried to regain your composure, you closed your mouth and clenched your jaw. You were not going to cry in front of Elektra.

"Uh, didn't realize you would be coming back so soon tonight," Matt said awkwardly.

"Or with your little girlfriend," Elektra added, gesturing a hand at you.

"She's not my girlfriend," Foggy stated, his annoyance at Matt’s girlfriend only just barely contained.

A very sly smile slid onto her red lips as she watched you intently from across the room. You crossed your arms over your chest as you tried hard to fight back the heat steadily growing in your cheeks. She was so infuriating, you couldn't understand what Matt saw in her to keep her around as his girlfriend. And you didn't understand why he would have a relationship with someone like her when he so often had praised you for your kindness and compassion–things she greatly lacked that he seemed to greatly admire.

It had also been awhile since Matt had really hung out with you and Foggy. Three months, to be exact. The exact length of time he'd been seeing her . Elektra Natchios. Or the Soul Sucking Snake Devil as Foggy and you had both taken to referring to her whenever Matt wasn't around. Because that's exactly what she'd done the moment she popped into Matt's life.

He'd been different ever since she'd shown up. He often prioritized her above his class work, on occasion even skipping classes. And if it hadn't been for Foggy staying on Matt's ass about it, his grades probably would've slipped by now. He was always out late with her doing who the hell knew what –you could only guess. Foggy had even told you that sometimes he would wake up to find that Matt wasn't even in his bed in the mornings. And you both noticed how Matt had been drinking more with her, too–to get drunk, not even just the social drinking the three of you usually did. He'd also been quick to anger, and he certainly never had much time for you and Foggy anymore.

You’d honestly barely seen Matt much since she’d appeared. He was hardly ever around when you were here with Foggy, especially on Saturday nights, which used to be a weekly ritual for the three of you. Even at mealtimes he was oddly missing from the dining hall. The last time you’d seen Matt was over a week ago, and it was just in passing as he was leaving his dorm to go meet up with his soul sucking girlfriend.

"You still seem quite prudish, darling," Elektra called out to you in that irritating accented voice of hers. "It's like you've never walked in on two people fucking before. Which, by the sounds of your roommate, shouldn't be such a shock."

Slowly your hands curled into fists where they were crossed over your chest, your nails biting into your palms. Anger burned in your blood, the urge to punch her growing steadily the more she continued to look at you. As if she knew exactly what you were thinking, she flashed her teeth at you in a very threatening smile.

"Maybe you should take some pointers from your roommate," she purred. "Then maybe you'd get out of the friend zone with whoever it is that's got you crying so much."

One of her dark brows rose high up onto her forehead, a knowing smirk pulling the corner of her lips upward. Her hand reached out to Matt’s chest, her nails running along the length of his torso in a clearly territorial manner.

Your eyes had slowly gone wide when her words registered in your mind. Sucking in a sharp breath, your eyes flew to Matt. An ache hit you right in the heart, white hot and painful, as he sent you an abashed, apologetic smile.

"You told her that?" you asked in disbelief.

"She was asking about you the other week," Matt admitted awkwardly, one of his hands rubbing at the back of his neck. "If you were seeing anyone. I didn't think it was a big deal–"

"You didn't think the personal details about myself that I shared with you in private weren’t a big deal and that you could just share that information with whoever the hell you wanted?" you asked, your anger only growing.

"Dude, that's not cool," Foggy pointed out, shaking his head.

"Well she wanted to know if you were seeing anyone!" Matt defended. "How was I supposed to know I couldn't tell her the situation?"

“Because I told you that in confidence , Matt!” you yelled. “You’re a fucking law student, you’d think you��d know what the fuck that meant!”

“Oh darling,” Elektra said cooly, her arm wrapping possessively around the back of Matt’s neck as she spoke, “maybe if you’d just told this gentleman what you thought of him sooner, instead of pining for months , you wouldn’t be in this situation, hmm?”

Your lip curled back in disdain, watching the smug smile she sent your way. She damn well knew this 'gentleman' was Matt. You swore she'd known months ago when you'd first met her, and then she intentionally tried to goad you whenever you were around the pair of them. Only Foggy ever seemed to notice, Matt somehow not believing that she was being intentionally cruel to you.

And now once again you found yourself fighting back tears because of Matt. You were so tired of crying over him. You didn't want to feel like this anymore.

Spinning on your heel, you stalked off away from their room, no longer in the mood for pizza or ramen. Or social interaction. You were going to go find somewhere quiet where you could cry, which you couldn't even do in your dorm because your roommate was no doubt there with her new boyfriend.

Hands tightening around the straps of your backpack, you hurried down the hallway. You felt the tears coming now despite how hard you were struggling to keep them back. She was such a bitch . So heartless and callous. And you hated that Matt somehow fell for her, that he somehow couldn't see what she truly was like. You knew he was blind, but how was he that blind? What the hell did he see in her that made her more desirable to him than you?

Slamming your finger into the call button for the elevator, a soft sob fell out of you. She somehow always managed to make you feel like shit, but you couldn't believe Matt had told her something so personal. He'd occasionally asked you about your crush on and off for months ever since he'd first found out about it after that night at the bar. He knew how much you didn't even want to talk to him about it–because it was him you had feelings for–so how could he have thought it was okay to share that with Elektra?

You heard footsteps coming down the hall behind you and you straightened, sniffling loudly as you wiped a hand across the dampness on your cheeks quickly. You didn’t need someone to see you crying, that would only make you feel worse. And you didn’t want some awkward elevator ride where the person beside you was pretending you weren’t crying while you stood awkwardly beside each other.

But then you heard your name uttered from Matt's lips and your eyes slowly closed. You wanted to disappear at the sound of his voice. Just fucking melt into the floor and avoid whatever awkward and uncomfortable conversation this was about to be. You didn’t want to have it.

"What do you want, Matt?" you asked, an edge to your tone.

You didn't bother turning around because you didn't want to look at him; you didn’t think you could. The moment that elevator came up to the floor you wanted to jump in and close the doors on him. What he'd done, betraying your trust like that, hurt you.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't think it was a big deal," he said gently. "She just asked because she was curious if you were seeing someone. She thought maybe the guy you were interested in was Foggy. I mean, I sort of always wondered that myself."

You pulled a face, surprised at what he'd said. He thought the guy you were upset over was Foggy ? All this time?

"You think I like Foggy?" you asked in shock.

"I mean, it makes sense," he answered slowly. "You two are always together. You have a lot in common. And you are good friends," he finished weakly.

Eyes widening, you spun around to face Matt, about to tell him that he was wrong and that you and Fog were strictly friends, but you faltered the moment you took in the sight of him standing there. He'd only managed to throw on a pair of jeans, his torso still bare and exposed–you would be lying if you said your eyes hadn't lingered on the sight of his bare chest yet again. You saw that he hadn't thrown on his glasses either, apparently in a rush to chase after you. His hair was a disheveled mess on his head, mussed no doubt by Elektra's hands. That knowledge only drove the knife further into your heart and twisted it.

He was so unbelievably handsome that it physically hurt to look at him right now. It didn't help that you absolutely hated who he’d become because of Elektra these past three months. When he hadn’t been with her he was the sweetest guy you'd ever met, always considerate of you; he was even considerate and incredibly kind to strangers he didn’t know. And the way he talked about wanting to use his degree in law to help those who weren't fortunate enough to be able to afford good legal representation, especially with that inspiring passion he always spoke about it with, had only ever made you want to just grab him and kiss him senseless. He was so goddamn smart and so well-spoken. So passionate about what he was doing and so driven when it came to his education. And he had the most beautiful heart you had ever seen in someone on top of it all.

Which was why it absolutely killed you to see him with Elektra. She had ruined all that goodness in Matt the moment she appeared and sunk her claws into him. She didn't even look at him the same way he looked at her. He always gazed at her with a warm affection that lit up his entire face whenever she was near; and you’d often thought what you wouldn't give to be the one he looked at like that, to have him feel like that for you. Instead you saw how she looked at him like he was a toy to wind up and play with, which is exactly what she was always doing with him. Calling him at all hours and demanding he drop everything for her. And he would go running to her like a lost puppy every goddamn time, not caring how it was destroying his friendship with you and Foggy or beginning to affect his grades. And you swore she had only mentioned you being interested in Foggy as a way to push Matt further away from you, though you didn't understand why considering she already had him.

"Foggy and I are just friends, Matt," you stated firmly. "Always have been. He likes that girl Marci. Which you'd know if you were ever around anymore."

"I'm around," he said defensively.

The elevator opened behind you with a ding and you forced your attention off of his half-naked body, turning and stepping into it. Matt instantly rushed forward, throwing a hand out and holding the doors open. You exhaled sharply, irritated that he was drawing this out as you reached out and roughly pressed the button for the main floor.

"I'm around," he said again more firmly.

"I don't even remember the last time you joined us for a Saturday night," you told him.

"Because you and Foggy openly dislike Elektra!" he snapped. "Both of you are so rude to her. You make her so uncomfortable that she doesn't want to spend time with either of you."

Your jaw dropped, shock written all over your face at what he'd said. And then a bitter, humorless laugh flew up out of you. Matt's lips curved into a deep frown at the sound, his left eye twitching a little.

Of course she made it seem like you and Fog were the ones being hurtful and cruel. She would do anything to try to shove a bigger wedge between Matt and his friends, making it so he’d just be all hers. It was such an Elektra move that you were more shocked you hadn’t realized she was doing that to begin with.

“Foggy and I don’t like her because she’s not good for you,” you shot back.

“What are you talking about?” he countered, his brows furrowing. “She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. She understands me like no one else ever has.”

You winced at his words as if they’d somehow struck you themselves. Elektra was the best thing that had ever happened to Matt? That sure as shit fucking hurt to hear. Especially considering the way she treated him and how she was slowly but surely tearing apart his life.

“Foggy and I have known you far longer, Matt,” you said, trying to hide the hurt in your voice. “I think we understand you a little better.”

Matt shook his head instantly, his lips thinning out on his face. “No,” he replied. “Neither of you get me like she does. She’s the only one who truly understands me.”

“Wow, ouch, Matt,” you snapped.

His eyes narrowed as he focused along your chest. You shifted your backpack, the weight of it starting to bother you as he silently scrutinized you, his hand still holding the elevator doors open. You wished he’d just let them go already.

“I’m tired of the way you and Foggy treat her,” he finally said, his voice almost a low growl. “She deserves better than that. And I’m sorry I told her about your little crush and that it hurt your feelings, but it’s not that big of a deal.”

His words felt like they’d cut you, your breath catching in your throat as you stood there speechless. It felt like you couldn’t take a full breath, your ribcage feeling like it was collapsing in on your lungs at the callousness in his words.

And I’m sorry I told her about your little crush and that it hurt your feelings, but it’s not that big of a deal.

This wasn’t Matt before you, not the Matt you knew at least. Not the one you were head over heels for, the one who’d often walked you back to your dorm or understood all of your ridiculous jokes. The one you’d had serious conversations with when Foggy inevitably passed out early on Saturday nights, the pair of you side by side on Matt's bed. You didn’t know who the hell this version of Matt was before you, glaring and saying such hurtful things, the one who so clearly didn’t care about your feelings.

You hated the way your lips had begun to quiver, that pain and hurt causing tears to once again form in your eyes. Anger and heartache mingled inside of you, boiling in your blood and twisting in your gut. You let out a deep breath, one that shook as it left your lips. Matt’s expression swiftly changed at the sound of it, as if he’d suddenly realized he’d upset you.

Taking a step forward, you grasped his wrist on the hand he was blocking the elevator doors with. You glared back at Matt, jaw clenched as you grit your teeth. You never thought there’d be a time you’d want to hit him, but right now you certainly wished you could.

“You’re a shitty friend, Matthew Murdock,” you spat.

Yanking his hand from off the elevator doors, you tossed it back towards him. He’d been so surprised by your outburst that he hadn’t even reacted. And as the elevator doors finally started to close, the last thing you saw was Matt’s stunned face.

Your back had begun to ache from its place against the tree trunk, the bark rough through the thin fabric of your sweatshirt. It was cold this evening, Fall really starting to settle into New York City now. You assumed it was still a bit too early for you to head back to your dorm, but since you’d turned your phone off, you didn’t really know what time it was or how long you’d been sitting under this tree. After awhile you’d eventually stopped crying, though that hollow ache in your chest seemed to be taking a permanent residence tonight.

“Hey, thought I’d find you here.”

Turning at the voice, you looked up to spot Foggy slowly lowering down to the ground beside you. You shifted, making room for him against the tree trunk. For a few minutes neither of you spoke, Foggy just sitting beside you as you continued to stare at the distant traffic on the nearby street that was just a little past Columbia’s campus.

“I’m sorry about Matt,” Foggy eventually said, breaking the silence.

You shrugged. “Not your place to make apologies for him,” you muttered.

“I know, but I feel bad,” he replied. “He shouldn’t have told Elektra you had a crush on someone. He knows how much it's torn you apart for months now. Even if he doesn't know that it's about him. That was still an incredibly shitty thing of him to do.”

“It was,” you agreed. “And his apology about telling her was fucking terrible.”

Beside you, Foggy nodded. “Yeah, he ended up sending Elektra away when he came back from talking with you. He seemed pretty hurt and upset, especially with what you’d said.”

“Good,” you growled. “He deserves to be the one hurting for once. He was an asshole.”

“He was,” Foggy agreed. “But I think there’s just something about Elektra that’s gotten into his head. He hasn’t been himself lately. I don’t–don’t think that’s Matt. I don’t understand what she’s doing to him, but…he’s not acting like the guy I’ve known for a while now.”

“She’s definitely sucked his soul out of him,” you grumbled, toeing the grass with your shoe.

“I don’t even know what to do anymore,” Foggy said, exasperation evident in his tone. “I can’t break them up, and Matt clearly can’t be reasoned with lately. But he’s slipping. I’m worried about him. And I’m worried about what’s going to happen when she breaks his heart, because I think we both know she’s not going to stick around for the long haul.”

Your heart twisted at the thought of the inevitable day where Elektra broke up with Matt. Foggy was right, there was absolutely no way Elektra was the long term girlfriend type. It was a shock she’d been with Matt for three months already. It felt like the expiration date for their relationship was fast approaching, and you weren’t looking forward to the mess she was going to leave behind in her wake.

“It’ll kill him,” you mumbled.

Foggy let out a deep, dejected sigh as his head fell back to rest along the trunk of the tree beside yours.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “And he won’t even see it coming.”

“Nope,” you muttered, shaking your head. “Because she’s perfect . She could never possibly do any wrong by him.”

“And in the end, we’ll be the ones left picking up all the shattered little broken pieces,” Foggy said. “Trying to piece our friend back together. Despite how he’s treated us for the duration of this relationship.”

Your eyes closed, the sting of tears once again returning. Because you knew Foggy was right. You’d still be there with him, helping Matt pick up the pieces of his heart that he willingly let Elektra smash to tiny bits.

Because, like the incredibly foolish idiot you were, you’d gone and fallen in love with him. And for some reason you were too stupid to just walk away.

“Yup,” you whispered, a lone tear falling down your cheek. “We’ll still be here. Doing what friends do.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock series #matt murdock fic #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock

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lurkingshan · 5 days

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Japanese QL Corner

We are heading into a bit of a quieter period for QL corner, with two shows ending now and another next week. At least we still have a true banger airing to sustain us through the drought. Smells Like Green Spirit is also now airing in Japan but has not yet been picked up for international distribution (pray for it to get to us soon). These shows are available for weekly streaming on Gaga unless otherwise noted.

Happy of the End

CWs: Blood and gore, child abandonment, child molestation, childhood sexual slavery, death, family rejection, heavy scarring, human trafficking, rape, sexual coercion and exploitation, suicidal ideation, suicide mention

This week was relatively lighter compared to last week's very rough episodes, but still so laced with sadness even in its happy moments. Haoren mourned his mother, and finally admitted to himself, and to Chihiro, that she was never protecting him. The show dug deeper into how this bond between them is giving them both a reason to shake off their apathy about survival, though that is definitely touch and go for both of them. The way Haoren experienced a few moments of happiness and immediately jumped to the conclusion that he would like to die now because he'll never top this feeling was telling, as was Chihiro casually laying down in the street and not moving until Haoren dragged him away. They don't have any real hope for a better life, but they each seem more invested in the other's survival than their own, and that is giving them something to cling to. It was nice to see them have some moments of trust and connection between them, and for Haoren to finally feel safe enough to strip himself bare, physically and emotionally. I'm bracing for a rough final week, with Haoren's former enslaver coming after Chihiro in a bid to destroy the source of Haoren's new happiness. I don't really know what to hope for in terms of an ending for these characters; I just hope the show can leave us with the sense that their relationship mattered and gave them something they can each hold onto.

Love is Like a Poison

This episode had me screaming with laughter and delight. Haruto can read his Ryo-kun like a book, and Shiba can't seem to figure out which way is up. I don't even want to describe all the hilarious gags and sexy tension and extremely unsubtle metaphors in this episode; I don't want to ruin it for anyone. Go watch!

Chaser Game W 2

Of all the great JQL we've gotten in the last year, why this one got picked up for a second season I could not tell you. I was less than impressed with season 1, and I don't have high hopes this next go round will be any better. Especially after watching the first ep of this new season, in which they unceremoniously undid the ending of the last in a laughably silly way only to introduce a new, more annoying conflict. They could have made something of a story about Fuyu trying to work out a way to manage her family life to be with Itsuki, but they'd rather hand wave that away via gay penguins in favor of a new love triangle. Whatever, show. Here we go again, I guess! I’ll be watching this one mostly to support the ratings.

Tagging @bengiyo to do our last anime update for the next little while, as Twilight Out of Focus has officially ended its run and there is no new animated ql on the horizon.

#japanese ql corner #happy of the end #love is like a poison #doku koi: doku mo sugireba koi to naru #twilight out of focus #chaser game w #japanese bl #japanese gl #shan shouts into the void

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jungle-angel · 1 year

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Send Off (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You, Bob and the rest of the squad get ready to send your kids off to school and let the shenanigans ensue

"Okay Daddy I'm ready now!" Auggie chirped as he stepped out of the bathroom.

Bob sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Auggie, though he had tried, couldn't quite match his own clothes yet. "C'mere bud," Bob told him.

He went into Auggie's room and dug around in the dresser for a hot minute, pulling out a little white t-shirt and a blue checked flannel to go with Auggie's jeans. "Put this on," Bob told his little mini-me.

"But we're gonna miss the bus!" Auggie chirped again.

"Buddy we've still got plenty of time," Bob assured him.

"What's he buggin about missing the bus?" you asked, poking your head in the door.

"Just a little," Bob answered. "And might I ask why you're up Mrs. Floyd?"

"Bob, I've been taking it easy for three weeks now," you told him, the dishtowel in your hand coming to rest on your ever growing bump. "The only thing that your sister's allowing me to do is eat, sleep, read, watch t.v or use the can."

"Hey, Reagan's been doing this for the last nine years," Bob reminded you with a grin. "Trust me, you don't wanna brush off her advice."

You laughed a little, neither of you having noticed that Auggie had disappeared and come back a minute later. "Daddy I can't brush my teeth."

"Why not buddy?"

"Patrick's parked on the shitter!"

You and Bob both burst out laughing at Auggie's response, but at least three-year-old Patrick had finally gotten the hang of using the bathroom on his own.

You got Auggie's toothbrush and the charcoal and mint toothpaste out of the bathroom and had him scrub his teeth in the kitchen sink before Patrick was done, having just washed his hands. As soon as Auggie's backpack had been packed up, he followed Bob out of the house to wait for the bus.

It wasn't long before the rest of the squad had begun making their way down. Maverick was the first to drop by with Danny and Thomas while Rooster was close behind him with Nicky and Pete.

"You guys get outta the house ok?" Bob asked.

"Never better," Maverick yawned. "These two little demons though, woke Penny and I up at six-thirty while Amelia was doing her makeup in the bathroom."

Bob snickered a little, more so when he noticed Rooster in his black basketball shorts and a mismatched shirt. "You didn't sleep did you?" Bob chuckled.

"I couldn't even a coffee before we left," Rooster groaned. "These two are like bottomless pits......they just wolfed down their cornflakes and called it a day."

Coyote came striding up just a minute later with Paloma and Carla giggling like crazy but the exasperated look on his face saying it all.

"Hair......" he interjected before anyone could say anything. "That's all you've gotta know."

Bob looked over at his giggling nieces whose thick hair had been put into tight cornrows with white and turquoise beads at the end. "How'd you do it?" Bob asked him.

"I don't have a clue," Coyote said, throwing his hands up. "Those two cannot sit for two seconds to save their lives and my mom and my wife are the only ones who can do their hair. But somehow, Daddy did it!!!"

Payback crossed the street with Geneva and Neveah some time later while Mickey trailed along with Isabella in her new dress with a bright sunflower pattern. Hangman came around the back of his house with the twins while Phoenix was the last to arrive with Gabe in tow.

"Holy shit," Hangman groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. "Is it the first day of school already?"

"Unfortunately," Rooster answered.

"God help us all," Natasha said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Couldn't get the coffee in on time?" Jake asked her.

"This little knucklehead woke up and tried to bring the dog to school with him," Natasha answered. "First time I ever saw Cole jump outta bed in his shorts."

Everyone had a good laugh on the morning shenanigans while everyone had begun taking pictures of the older kids all lined up with their backpacks as they waited for the bus. It felt like forever but finally, the little yellow bus that had the name of their school stenciled on the side, pulled up and let the kids on. All of them waved goodbye to their parents, ready for the first day of school as the bus pulled away down the street.

"Are you crying?" Bob asked Jake.

"No," Jake insisted. "I've got allergies, that's all."

Bob rolled his eyes as everyone dispersed and went back to the house. His father's truck pulled into the driveway to bring Patrick down to the nursery school, where Auggie had gone, leaving you and Bob with the whole day ahead to get the nursery decorated for your daughter.

"What?" you asked when you heard Bob chuckle a little.

"Hangman was crying at the bus stop when Missy and Molly got on the bus," he answered.

"Did he really?"

"Oh yeah," Bob laughed. "Tole me it was allergies."

You both had a good laugh on the matter as you began putting the nursery together and attempting to paint it the way Patrick's nursery school had done. You looked over at your phone, noting the time, but hoping all the same that Auggie and your nieces and nephews were having the time of their lives on their first day of kindergarten.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #natasha phoenix trace #bradley rooster bradshaw #pete maverick mitchell #mickey fanboy garcia #jake hangman seresin #javy coyote machado #reuben paybak fitch #dagger squad

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life-of-eris · 3 months

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HOOOO BOY Phantomarine has me by the throat rn. I have... hm. Hm.

So like. This is the We Love Girl Crimes website, the Sad Little Meow-Meow Defence Brigade website. Of course we love Cheth and Cheline, these two are laser targeted for an audience who loves morally grey badasses. Both are AMAZING, in terms of both design and characterization.

But I think I like Cheline more?

Which really wasn't the case until This Page. Firstly because, well, we've seen more of Cheth! He's our call to action, he got a KILLER mini comic about his state of mind, the author has shown us what's under his sharp and snarky exterior, and it's a very sad god who feels alone but still desperately loves his charges and wants to help, even if they hate him. Mwah, wonderful.

But Cheline FUCKING HATES humans. At first I thought it was a programming issue, for lack of a better word? Like, some kids just come out fucked up, yanno. Or maybe she really was The Devil. But like, fuck dude, I wouldn't want to be the caretaker of the things that killed my siblings either! Of course she fucking hates people! Of course she has utter contempt for the species that destroyed her family. It's a little weird that Cheth leaves it at fucking with the dead, frankly, he could be So Much Worse than just kinda... Being spooky to people on boats?

Because here's the thing. That kind of bone-deep (heh) hatred comes from a place of love. Cheline loved her siblings. Even Cheth, I think! Six dead, and Cheth was getting too friendly! In a twisted sort of way I can totally see how shattering him seemed like the better option at the time. He won't be around, they can never be as close as they were again, but he's not DEAD. And so what if she has to kill a few meat bags and tell some lies to keep it that way, her brother is orders of magnitude more important than the Odious Fucks she has to keep churning out. They'll make more. It's fine.

It's been heavily implied that Pavel has a spooky resemblance to one of the dead gods, right down to the name. And Cheline is looking for excuses not to hurt him, even though it's in her best interest to Get Rid of That Fucking Thing as soon as possible. She's bantering with his mom, showboating a little, having a smoke break while all of her plans may be falling apart at that very moment to spend time with a mortal she claims to hate. Until a couple of pages ago, she even seemed to be enjoying watching Vanna puzzle things out. Until the half-breed was mentioned.

And even though it WAS a reasonable guess to make, given the info Vanna had, Cheline just UNLOADS all of this fucking, ancient elder lore, things that have been forgotten for five thousand years, things we the audience and presumably the people of that world have no POSSIBLE way to know, because fuck THAT ONE in particular! Fuck her corpse and fuck her memory! And it's such a violent reaction- Cheline, I think, is even more emotional than Cheth, and in a way I think that kind of implies that when she loves, she loves with all she's got, to the point of destruction.

Anyway this has been a very long and rambling way to say that Cheline tickles the same part of my brain that Lucretia Taz did, and I cannot WAIT to find out of her expression in that last panel is "ah shit I may have gotten away from myself" or "that's right worm you fucked up!" Both are FUCKING AWESOME, I LOVE CHELINE SO MUCH

#phantomarine #cheline #to say nothing of how much i love the comic from an aesthetic standpoint #the layout on todays page is so goddamn cool and im a sucker for strongly monochromatic stuff #...hey speaking of why are seaghosts blue?#hm #thats weird actually HEY WHY ARE THE FATA MORGANA PINK #color inversion fun time my god i love phantomarine so much #yesterday i saw someone point out that Irving had pink eyes implying that he has very well hidden and TREATED seabite #anyway im unmedicated and rambling read at your own risk

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

Note

AITA for not wanting my friends to visit?

(English isn't my first language and this might be too long)

I (26 X) live in a different city from a bunch of friends who constantly travel here due to concerts and other massive events (think at least twice per year). I've always tried being welcoming in the past bc I too used to live in a much smaller city and wished I could attend concerts on a more regular basis, plus I've been friends with people in this group for more than 10 years, so I tend to be comfortable around them in almost any situation.

One friend (26M) from such group has recently moved in with me, and we've been roomates for almost half a year now, however I noticed the number of request to coming over and staying has exponentially increased since he moved in last year (think at least one person every two months and the number of days increasing to up to one week when previously they used to stay not more than four).

Normally, this wouldn't bother me considering that they are all common friends, but recenetly I've been going through a particular depressive episode where all I want to do is not being bothered by anyone in my own house (my roomate being the exception since I'm used to him being there) and I've been having trouble getting along with the more often visits. While adding the fact that since my friemd moved in, everyone just sort of stoped directly asking me if it was okay to stay and just asking the roomate instead and making him tell me.

I've expressed my fatigue to my roomate, along my dislike of not being considered as an essential part of the plan when other friends prepare their stay, I've been certainly feel used by them while also being aware that my depression fuels any negative feeling that crosses my way, but he and the others have reasurred me that it's just easier to bother him with such details since they know I'm not doing so well. I've agreed with their plans nonetheless thinking I could get better or just ignore them, but there's this big concert next month where a bunch of people are coming to stay for over a week and I'm just feeling overwheled thinking about it.

There is one particular case that troubles me the most as a guest, bc since other friends might just be a little draining, she (24F) and I used to be in some sort of "situationship" about a year ago that never really went anywhere and while we put some distance we did end up in relatively good terms. I've been told multiple times that I can't throw away this long friendship just because I caught feelings at some point and while I can act normal around her in public, there's just this terrible dreadful feeling of imagining her being back in my house as though nothing has happened.

The three of us (her, my roomate and I) used to be the closest from the group of friends and as such I've allowed him to invite her over (mind you, a completly diferent city) while I've been away, but can't stand the idea of her being there at the same time as me. My roomate has told both of us we ought to patch things down (so everything can be as before) but every instance we've tried to talk I've just been convinced I want her less and less inside my house.

This should be pretty obvious for me, but I've gotten to a point of avoiding my own house for weeks bc depression keeps telling me no one wants me there and I'm the problematic one while not wanting to upset my roomate (it is also his house afterall) or the other friends who keep making plans to visit, with my irritable mood and also being reminded that THEY have no problem with me and its okay if I need to take my space.

AITA if I'm considering completly shuting down all visits for a what's left of the year despite people having made plans since last year and (inderctly) telling me said plans with anticipation? I just don't know what else to do but changing most of these people plans when I'm feeling bad all the time around other people and not being able to properly express that in a way where everyone don't just think I'm a resentful toxic ex and that my problem is just with one person.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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helloalycia · 8 months

Text

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃𝐋𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒 [𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑] — 𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐂𝐈𝐀 𝐃𝐄𝐁𝐍𝐀𝐌-𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐘

one / two / three / five / masterlist / wattpad

summary: as you try to avoid witnessing Clayton making moves on your girlfriend, you start to hang out with the help some more, only making Alycia jealous in return.

warning/s: none.

author's note: super delayed (my bad), but here’s the final part! hope you guys liked this one :)

Alycia's parents were treating her to lunch today, so I busied myself with icing the cupcakes Millie let me help her bake yesterday, and also the little 2-tier cake I'd baked for Alycia as a surprise.

It was fun, I wouldn't lie, even though I was terrible at baking and icing and anything creative in that aspect. But Millie was great company and it was a nice enough distraction from the utter boredom I otherwise would have felt with Alycia being gone.

"So, how did you and Alycia meet?" Millie was asking as we dyed our icing.

"It was actually at a job, working over the summer at one of her parents' camps," I answered. "Though, back then, I definitely didn't know she was the daughter to millionaires."

"Would that have changed anything if you did?" she asked with an amused smile.

I shrugged, weighing it up as I'd never really thought about it. "I'm not entirely sure... I think if I knew before speaking to her, I may have avoided her. But that would have been based on a preconceived idea that she's stuck up and spoilt, y'know? Obviously, I spoke to her because she was my buddy at the time and we got along from there. And by the time she told me about her parents, well... she's lucky she's cute."

Millie laughed at my joke. "That's adorable. You guys make a lovely couple. And you're right about getting to know Alycia. I've worked here for a year or so, mostly for her parents, but the few times she's visited and we've interacted, she's been kind."

I smiled, knowing that sounded like Alycia. Nothing like her parents, thank God.

"So, how did you end up being a private chef?" I asked curiously.

We passed time as we decorated, talking about how she went to culinary school, what she did when she wasn't baking and her love for it all. It was refreshing, especially because I'd never met anyone who did this for a living. And after she helped me not make a fool of icing the cakes, but also assisted me in decorating Alycia's, a waiter entered the kitchen to let us know of Alycia's return.

"That's your cue," Millie encouraged, before nodding to the cake in the box on the counter. "Knock 'em dead."

A little excited, I smiled gratefully before grabbing the cake and heading to the front door with hopes of finding Alycia. They were still outside, I noticed, when I glanced out the window, and then I realised they weren't alone. Her parents, her and fucking Clayton of all people were getting out the car, chatting and smiling. Had he gone to lunch with them? What the fuck? I literally stayed behind so Alycia could have some bonding time with her parents, not him.

Frustrated, I stepped away from the window and realised my anger had gotten the better of me because I'd unintentionally squeezed the box in my hand and, consequently, the cake.

"Fuck," I mumbled, before backing away from the door and returning to the kitchen.

"How did she– wait, what happened?" Millie started, but stopped herself when I tossed the cake box on the counter.

"Fucking Clayton and his fucking lack of boundaries," I muttered with irritation, before leaning my head in my hands on the counter to contain myself.

"Oh, Y/N..."

I'd never discussed anything of my feelings towards Clayton to Millie, but it was pretty evident how I was feeling right now. I thought I was over it, especially after Alycia's reassurances last night, but clearly I wasn't.

"It doesn't matter," I said with a heavy sigh. "It was stupid anyway. Just throw it out. It's basically bird food now anyway."

No doubt giving me a disapproving look, Millie grabbed the box and said, "Don't be silly."

I glanced up when I heard her shuffling about, only to see her taking the cake out the box and cutting a decent enough slice that wasn't destroyed by my inability to contain my anger.

"Go," she ordered, pushing the plate towards me. "Give this to your girlfriend."

I narrowed my eyes at the cake. "She's too busy with Clayton."

Millie gave me a knowing look. "It's her dad, not her, now go." I just about rolled my eyes when she added, "Don't be a child, Y/N."

Grumbling to myself, I straightened up and grabbed the plate. But not before glancing at her and saying, "You're getting too comfortable with me."

She cracked a smile, resisting the urge to laugh, before wafting me away with her hand. I groaned inwardly before returning to the front of the house, where Alycia, her parents and Clayton were just entering the atrium. As soon as Alycia spotted me, her face lit up and she ran to me, almost making me drop the plate as she hugged me. Admittedly, it made me forget why I was annoyed in the first place and I immediately returned the hug.

"Ooh, what's that?" she asked distractedly, eyeing up the cake slice. "My surprise, perhaps?"

Unable to stop my smile, I was about to reply, but was instantly cut off by her father.

"Oh, that can't be Millie's handiwork, surely," he said with a loud laugh. "What on earth is that decoration?" Glancing at Clayton, he added, "This is why you have to be picky with the help."

Clayton laughed at his joke whilst I tried very hard not to throw the plate at his head.

"Dad!" Alycia scolded with a look. "That's not nice!"

Her dad played dumb, then looked to Clayton for approval, which only boiled my blood more.

"Y/N, what is it?" Alycia asked, expression softening when she looked back to me.

"Nothing," I managed to say without flipping out irrationally. "Just leftovers from a practice batch Millie made." Swallowing hard, I took a step back. "In fact, I should probably throw it out. It's not that nice anyway."

Alycia frowned, about to speak, but bloody Clayton of all people spoke up.

"Alycia, your dad and I are going to get a drink, would you like to join us?"

Seconds away from smashing this plate on his head, I rolled my eyes and turned to leave instead. Storming back to the kitchen a second time, I made a beeline for the bin.

"Seriously?" Millie asked with playful disbelief. "You still haven't–?"

"It was a stupid idea," I snapped, setting the empty plate before her, before leaving to get some fresh air.

—

Not even half an hour passed when Alycia found me returning to the house after a well-needed sulk around the property.

"Y/N!" she called once she spotted me by the outdoor dining area. "I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"I haven't been very far," I said nonchalantly.

She frowned guiltily, eyes flickering between mine. "I didn't know Clayton would be there. My parents took me out and he was already sat there at the table."

"He always seems to be present, don't you think?"

She sighed. "I know."

I lifted an eyebrow questioningly. "Seriously? Why not doing something about it, Alycia?"

She raised her eyebrows too. "Don't you think I'm trying?"

I tried not to scoff as I crossed my arms. "Well, not hard enough."

Definitely surprised by my attitude, she gave me a look. "Y/N."

I looked down at my shoes, knowing my anger would return if we discussed this any longer. "Forget it. See you at dinner."

"Y/N," she started as I began to walk away.

"Or maybe we'll see Clayton, who knows?" I said sarcastically, before rolling my eyes as I left, ignoring her calls.

It wasn't her fault, I knew that, but she wasn't exactly telling her father to back off, at least not well enough. I was uncomfortable and her parents were doing a pretty great job at making me want to leave. So, why couldn't we?

—

Dinner time that same evening was awkward as hell and I was counting down the seconds before I could leave to go up to our room. Her parents were chatting, talking about the business and Alycia, and I was staying quiet because I seriously couldn't be bothered. The only relieving thing was that they hadn't invited Clayton.

At one point, the dessert was brought out – the cupcakes that Millie let me help her make, though she did ninety-nine percent of it – and her dad felt the need to comment.

"Ah, see? This is Millie's handiwork," he said with a smile as the waiter placed some cupcakes before us all. "None of that rubbish from earlier."

I bit my tongue as I distracted myself with my cup of tea. Alycia glanced over at me, wanting to say something, but as usual, she didn't.

When the meal was over, Alycia and I headed straight upstairs for bed. I never usually went to sleep so soon after eating, but I didn't want to stay awake and have to talk things out with Alycia, not when I was still so upset at the situation. So, after getting ready for bed, I jumped right in and laid down, turning my back to Alycia who was still unchanged from her day clothes.

"Y/N?" she called gently. "Can we talk?"

I closed my eyes, frowning to myself. "I'm tired."

I heard her sigh from behind me, and though a small part of me felt bad for treating her like this, the rest knew that it wasn't fair how I was being treated this whole trip. The sooner we left, the better. But for now...

"Okay," she muttered. "Goodnight, I guess."

I didn't say anything, but the door closed and I assumed she'd gone into the ensuite to get ready for bed, too.

—

I'd hoped going to sleep would put me in a better mood, but when I woke up the next day, I was only reminded of how shitty everything had been and my mood still remained.

There were only two days left before Alycia and I could go home, but for now I had to suck it up. I still wasn't in the mood to talk to Alycia, so I avoided her the best I could, which I soon discovered was ideal because none other than fucking Clayton was back at the house again. Apparently it wasn't for Alycia, based on what the staff chatter had to say, but rather for a business meeting with her dad. Either way, it was an excuse for him to be around and I would have rather stayed away.

Deciding that Millie was the only other person here that I knew and felt comfortable enough to be around, I went to bother her as she worked in the kitchens. Plus, I owed her an apology after my outburst yesterday.

When I found her, she was preparing some ingredients for something and almost didn't notice my presence until I stopped by a stool at the counter.

"Hey," I said with a small smile.

When she saw me, she returned my smile with a relieved one. "Y/N, hey. How are you doing? You seemed really upset yesterday."

I leaned in the palm of my hand nervously. "Yeah, look, I'm sorry for snapping at you. It wasn't very nice, especially not after you tried to help me with the whole situation."

"It's okay," she assured. "I can see how annoying it must be to find out Clayton is always around. I'm guessing that's why you're here now."

I sighed, trying not to get worked up at the mere mention of him. "Yeah. I hope that's okay. I just can't stand being around him. And Alycia isn't helping the situation, so we're kind of not talking."

At this, Millie gave me a disapproving look. "You can't just not speak to her. You know this is an awkward spot for her. It's her parents, not her."

"I understand that, but how about me? I'm at my girlfriend's house to hang out with her family and instead of that, they're trying to show her off to another guy right in front of me. Why do I have to be okay with that?"

Millie sighed, shrugging as she worked. "You're right. It's shitty. But you need to communicate this to Alycia, not avoid her."

I put my head in my hands and groaned quietly. "Can I avoid her a little longer? I'm not in the mood."

Chuckling quietly, Millie nodded. "I suppose so. Maybe I can teach you how to make fresh pastry."

Glad she was letting me stay, I smiled for real and jumped off the stool. "Thanks, Millie."

It was probably a terrible sign that I enjoyed spending more time with a pastry chef than I did my girlfriend's family, but I didn't care. If they couldn't bother to make half the effort with me that I was making with them, then I couldn't change that. Besides, there were only two more days left. I could surely survive that.

After spending the morning with Millie, chatting away mindlessly and watching as she worked because it was better than watching TV for hours on end, it was soon lunchtime. We were supposed to be having an outdoor afternoon tea for lunch, with some baked goods that Millie and a few of the other chefs had prepared in advance. I was stood outside with Millie after she set the table, the two of us talking by the doors, when Alycia found me.

Millie and I's conversation ceased as soon as Alycia stopped by us, glancing at me with a tense jaw.

"Alycia," I greeted, still mildly irritated.

"Can I speak to you, please?" she asked with a raised eyebrow. Before glancing at Millie and adding, "In private?"

I looked at her with disbelief, but before I could say anything, Millie nodded awkwardly.

"I should get back to work," was all she said, before returning to the kitchen.

When she was gone, I looked back to Alycia. "That was a little rude, don't you think?"

Alycia's green eyes stared holes into mine. "What are you doing?"

I was confused. "What?"

She crossed her arms with annoyance as she asked, "Do you like her?"

Absolutely baffled now, I raised my eyebrows and stared at her. "What? Are you joking right now?"

She clenched her jaw, unimpressed. "All you keep doing is avoiding me and hanging out with her instead. What gives?"

The audacity of her to make such assumptions was laughable, to the point where I had to stop myself from doing so.

"Wow," I said with both irritation and impatience. "You're kidding me, right?" Judging from her know-it-all expression and the patronising glare she was giving me, I knew she wasn't. I continued, "Maybe if you stopped appeasing your dad's wishes this whole trip and hanging out with Clayton all the time, you'd see that I'm bored! Millie is the only bloody person I can hang out with here!"

Alycia scoffed frantically, shaking her head and looking away. "That's hardly fair."

I widened my eyes as I gave her a questioning look. "Isn't it?! What's not fair is that I'm here to bond with my girlfriend's parents and, instead of doing the same, they're trying to set you up with a new man whilst I'm literally right here!"

"That's not what's happening–!"

It was my turn to scoff as I cut her off. "Sure it's not. Because he just so happens to be around all the time, doesn't he?" Giving her an angry glare, I said, "He drools over you, Alycia. And do you think I like watching him check you out? Because I bloody don't!"

She opened her mouth to speak, but just on cue, someone approached us and interrupted, and it was damn Clayton.

"Sorry to interrupt, ladies, but Alycia–"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" I shouted at him, before losing my patience and shoving past him to return indoors. I didn't have to deal with this – it wasn't fair!

Storming up to our room, I shut the door and tried very hard to contain my frustration, but it was too late, I was already fuming. It wasn't fair! I didn't deserve to be treated like this! And I wasn't going to stand for it anymore. Being here was only making me miserable, so I had to leave. Alycia could stay the rest of the trip with her parents, but they didn't want me here and I didn't want to be here.

Pulling out my suitcase, I grabbed as much as I could from the wardrobe and threw it in, deciding to pack everything up. Clayton and Alycia's parents could live happily together, but I didn't care to see it.

I was midway through packing when the door suddenly opened and Alycia appeared.

"Y/N, we need to talk," she said sternly. "Not argue."

"I'm not interested," I said dismissively, throwing another shirt in.

She must have realised what I was doing, finally paying attention, as she lost her irritation and looked to me sadly. "You're leaving?"

I narrowed my eyes at her. "No, I just thought the suitcase was a looking a little empty. What do you think?"

"Y/N!"

I ignored her and continued to pack, moving to grab some toiletries from the dressing table.

"Please, let's just talk this through," she tried again. "I don't want to fight."

"Neither do I, but I can't be here anymore," I said, throwing my toiletries in my bag. "We can talk it through at home. You should stay the rest of the week."

"We're literally talking right now," she pointed out, making me roll my eyes. "C'mon, just sit. Please."

I met her eyes with a hardened stare. "Not in the mood."

She frowned and then her jaw clenched and I saw her impatience shining through. "Y/N."

I was stubborn, but so was she, and I refused to let her get her way this time.

Returning to my packing, I planned to ignore her presence until I finished, and even when she rounded the bed to approach me, I blanked her out. A little too much, in fact, as I didn't realise she'd pulled out some handcuffs from her back pocket and snapped them onto my wrist, connected to hers.

"Alycia!" I scolded. "Unlock it right now."

She pursed her lips, shaking her head. "Nope."

I bit back my irritation. "Maybe when you were a kid this sort of behaviour was cute, but it's not now, so let me go."

"Talk to me then," she insisted. "I don't like how things ended before and I don't like seeing you upset."

"Well, I'm not in the mood to speak to you right now and I just want to leave," I retorted. "So, respect that."

Her gaze softened. "Please."

I outstretched my free hand. "Key. Now."

Just when I thought I'd have to wrestle it from her, she sighed and gave in. "Fine."

As she patted down her pockets, I pushed my hair from my eyes and groaned inwardly. "Where the hell d'you even get handcuffs anyway?"

"Toy set from when I was a kid," she mumbled, before I watched her pat her pockets some more. Judging from the worried look she had, I couldn't imagine the news being good.

"Alycia, give me the key," I repeated, growing nervous, and she tensed her jaw with annoyance. "This isn't funny."

"D'you see me laughing?" she snapped, before checking her back pockets and coming up with nothing.

I tried to pull my wrist from the metal cuffs, but it pulled her wrist too, making her yelp, and that's when I realised she really wasn't joking.

"Alycia, are you insane?!" I shouted, already stressing because of what this meant.

"Just shush!" she ordered, though the guilt was seeping through. "Panicking doesn't help!"

I gasped sarcastically. "Sorry if we're bloody handcuffed together and I'm panicking! Because in case you didn't realise, darling, we're handcuffed together!"

"I know!" she shouted right back, before giving up with her futile searching. In a quieter voice, she said, "I've lost it. I must have missed my pocket when I put it in."

I groaned loudly, attempting to sit on the bed, but she of course came with me and I had to remain standing.

"Look, let's just go back downstairs and retrace my steps," she said hopefully. "It'll show. And if not, there's gotta be some tools somewhere."

I stayed quiet, not wanting to snap at her even more when I was already pissed off and she was the last person I wanted to be handcuffed to right now. Instead, I let her lead me downstairs and around the living room and old playroom, with hopes of finding the key on the floor somewhere. But we searched everywhere and there was nothing. Not wanting to give up, Alycia assured me we might be able to find some tools in the shed outside. But of course, it was just our luck when there was nothing there either.

"No offence, but you're terrible at this," I told her bitterly, before flagging down the pool boy who was nearby. "Hey, mate, are you alright to give us a hand? Alycia over here has handcuffed us together and we need something to unlock it with."

The pool boy, more of a man in all fairness, glanced at our handcuffed wrists. "Have you tried the key?"

I closed my eyes, containing my constant frustration that didn't seem to leave me today. Thankfully, Alycia responded so I wouldn't have to.

"We lost the key. We were thinking something like a screwdriver or a hammer. Anything else, really."

"Hmm...," he thought to himself. "I'm not sure about the wrist part, but I can definitely separate you by chopping the chain with a butcher's knife."

How hadn't I thought of that? It was genius!

"Yes!"

"No!"

I blinked, looking to Alycia. "I'm sorry?"

"Y/N, are you insane?" Alycia asked with disbelief. "That's so dangerous! What if he missed?!"

I opened my mouth, stunned. "Are you– are you kidding me right now, Alycia? Insane? You bloody handcuffed us together! The only insane one here is you!"

Taking that as his cue to leave, the pool boy turned on his heel and left Alycia and I to bicker.

"How dare you!" she exclaimed, not even attempting to disguise her annoyance anymore. "Sorry if I had to take extreme measures to talk to my girlfriend!"

"I said I would talk about it back home!" I reminded her, before yanking our wrists towards me. "Now c'mon! I don't want to be handcuffed to you any longer!"

"I said no!" she said, yanking me back as I attempted to walk away.

Frowning, I pulled her towards me. "We're using the knife, dammit!"

"I said no!" she repeated firmly, yanking me back towards her.

"Alycia!"

"No!"

"We're going to the–!"

"You're not listening–!"

"Alycia–!"

And before either of us knew it, she'd yanked me too hard, enough for me to go tumbling right into her and knocking us both into the pool. The cold water shocked the anger right out of me and I immediately tried to resurface, gasping for air. I made sure Alycia was okay beside me, momentarily stunned, and when she was pushing her wet hair from her eyes, the realisation settled in and my anger returned.

"I can't believe you just did that!" I shouted.

"Me? You're the one who fell into me!"

Swallowing hard, I began to swim to the stairs. Thankfully, she got the hint, and we both returned to our room dripping wet.

"We'll go to the garage in town first thing in the morning when it opens," she suddenly said when we were stood there making a mess on the carpet. "They'll have tools."

I resisted the urge to glare at her. This was probably the biggest fight we'd ever had and, right now, I hated her.

"I'm showering," I said without giving her much choice. "Come on."

Yanking her into the ensuite, I shut the door and grabbed a towel, mumbling to myself, "I'd have a bath but I can't because tweedledum is handcuffed to me..."

"I'm not stopping you," she said defensively. "Go for it."

I glanced at her, trying to see if she was joking, but when she wasn't, I thought what the heck? I deserved a nice, relaxing bubble bath. Though preferably one that didn't include her. Unfortunately, I couldn't manage that, but I could still have the bath, so I filled it up as I undressed and forced her to sit on the edge of the tub, look at the door and be quiet. Being Alycia, however, she couldn't manage that, and she was nonstop talking about how she didn't like Clayton or what her dad was up to or anything about this week so far. And I'd finally had enough.

"Alycia!" I snapped, opening my eyes. "The whole point of this is for me to relax. Be quiet, please."

She sighed, but thankfully listened, and I closed my eyes again, trying to forget that she was attached at the wrist and sat on the edge of my supposed-to-be relaxing bubble bath. Just when I thought I was doing better, she suddenly moved, making me open my eyes, and then I saw her jump into the bath with me, sitting opposite me and with her clothes still on.

Widening my eyes, I looked to her. "Alycia!"

"I'm sorry," she said with a pained voice, ignoring my shock and her current situation. "I know I need to do more. This week hasn't been fair on you. But my dad doesn't listen and I don't know what else to say. I don't mean to appear ignorant. I care about you, Y/N, so fucking much."

The sincerity in her voice was convincing enough, but I was still staring at the fact that she was soaking wet and fully clothed in the bath with me.

"Say something," she pleaded.

"You're wearing clothes?" I said with disbelief.

She rolled her eyes. "Forget that. Just talk to me. Please."

Despite the stupidity of everything, it was the distraction I needed to finally tell her how I was feeling. I hesitated, not planning to do it whilst sat naked before her in a bubble bath, but she clearly wasn't going to leave, so it was now or never.

"I've tried to be respectful, but your parents don't like me, Alycia," I started, meeting her eyes. "I can't stay here any longer whilst they do what they're doing. I just want to go home. This whole week has been a train wreck."

She sighed dragging her hand down her face. "I know."

I sighed too, looking down with embarrassment. "I know you don't like Clayton. But seeing him with you doesn't feel good. It's not that I don't trust you, but I can't help it if I feel jealous sometimes. Especially when I'm here because of you. I don't know. It just sucks."

She rested her cuffed hand on mine, rubbing her thumb gently. "I feel the same with you and Millie. And it wasn't fair of me to accuse you of anything. I was just pissed because you already hated me and she was making you smile and I got stupidly jealous."

I frowned, meeting her eyes. "I'm sorry to make you feel like that. I don't hate you, Alycia. I've just been upset. I'm not usually the jealous type and it got ugly."

"You're not," she agreed. "Neither am I. I guess this whole trip has just pulled us apart, huh?"

I hummed in agreement, leaning on the side of the tub with my elbow. I didn't know where to go with this. Her dad wasn't listening and that couldn't be changed. So, now what?

"I love you," she said, earning my attention. "I want to make things right. And that starts with you being comfortable. So, we'll leave tomorrow."

"It's your family, we can't just leave."

She lifted a brow. "Wanna bet?"

I gave her a knowing look. "Alycia. No. Look, I'll go. You stay. I'll see you back home in a few days."

"I'm not staying without you, and you don't want to stay, so we go together," she insisted, moving closer to me, unbothered by the fact that she was chest deep in water. "Besides, I don't really want to stay either. Not when my girlfriend is being shit on time and time again."

That was all I'd wanted to hear, selfishly enough.

"You're sure?" I asked. "I'll stay if you really want me to. And I won't sulk."

She cracked a smile. "I'm sure, love. We've been here long enough."

I nodded, relieved. "Thank you, Alycia."

"Thank you," she corrected. "For being so patient."

I gave her a small smile, before nodding to her clothes. "Take them off, idiot. You've already made a mess from jumping in here."

She laughed, pulling off her clothes whilst still in the water, only making a further mess of water on the floor. I rolled my eyes but gladly pulled her towards me, struggling at first but managing to keep her between my legs and hold her tight.

"Sorry, I was jealous," I mumbled into her shoulder.

She kissed my cheek and leaned back. "Me, too. And I'm sorry I couldn't try the cake you made me. It looked really nice."

I sighed. "No, it didn't."

She began to smile, her body moving slightly as she held in a laugh. "Yeah, no, it didn't."

I squeezed her playfully, making her laugh properly, and refused to let go.

#alycia debnam carey x you #alycia debnam carey x reader #alycia debnam carey imagine #alycia debman carey

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roykaplanpod · 22 days

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Hello friend! It's Jesse here again to make an updated status post about Roy Kaplan, the paranormal cyberpunk detective audio drama that at least some of you have been very patiently waiting for for the last two and a half years.

What is Roy Kaplan?

Roy Kaplan, as stated above, is a detective audio drama with paranormal and cyberpunk elements. It's heavily based on the style of old time radio shows such as Richard Diamond, and greatly inspired by 30s-50s hardboiled detective fiction. It features the titular Roy Kaplan--private investigator, ex-burglar, and psychic. With his unique skill set and the occasional assist from his ghost roommate Wes, Kaplan solves all kinds of different cases across the city.

Out of Sight is the first season of Roy Kaplan, consisting of 12 episodes, 35-40 minutes long each. The episodic format makes it so most episodes can stand on their own, without needing context from previous episodes (though obviously it is better to listen to the season in release order).

Hey, what the hell is going on with Roy Kaplan?

If you have been one of the people very patiently waiting for Roy Kaplan's release, you are probably aware that we have experienced numerous delays. Real life happens, etc.

Anyways, due to extenuating circumstances, the studio I was previously working on with Roy Kaplan, Tiny Lunar Dragon Studios, has dropped out and I (Jesse, the writer) am taking over the remainder of production and editing. I've been steadily working through all the episodes since May to get them edited together (as well as opening the final casting call for this season to take care of our last required voice files) and I am hoping for a release near the new year.

You might be skeptical of this ETA, since literally every ETA we've given so far has been insanely wrong, but since I'm the one personally doing the work this time, I have a higher level of confidence in this estimate. I've edited together eight of the twelve episodes so far (minus missing files) and assuming no further unforeseen circumstances, I should be able to finish somewhere around November or December. (And if not then, then a few months after that.)

Where will I be able to listen to Roy Kaplan when it releases?

I'll be hosting Roy Kaplan using Pinecast, so you'll be able to listen to the podcast on any RSS feed aggregator. I will also be posting episodes on my Patreon, where supporters will be able to access episodes one week early.

I expect to release Roy Kaplan: Out of Sight on a once every two weeks schedule. I'll talk more about trailer and launch dates when I've gotten all the audio files and the episodes themselves more edited together.

In the meantime, if you want to stay up to date or ask more questions about Roy Kaplan, check out any of the following places:

This Tumblr

The writer's Tumblr (that's me)

Roy Kaplan on The Pinwheel Lab

The Pinwheel Lab Discord Server

Also, if you were skimming, we're also currently doing our last casting call for eight roles. The due date is 11PM PST September 20, so check it out!

#roy kaplan podcast #audio drama #fiction podcast #radio drama #podcast #detective drama #roy kaplan

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chronicbeans · 1 year

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Wally Darling with a Restoration Project Reader (part 8)

Yippee- No nightmares! New friends!

TW: Disappearances, Mentions of Nightmares, Mentions of Vomiting, Mentions of Possible Hallucinations, Minor Scopophobia/Eye Imagery

🗞️ You wake up the next morning, happy to find that you didn't have any nightmares. However, your cellphone is blowing up. Looking at it, you find a few texts in the group chat. Amy is complaining about having horrible nightmares, Finn is informing everyone that Daniel has been "vomiting his guts out". Daniel's only text has been "God help me, why can't I drink water? I'm going to the ER, see y'all when I get out." which was sent at 3 in the morning.

🗞️ You meet up with Finn and Amy at the playground. You have one of the letters with cursive handwriting on it, alongside the "Painting in the Dark" tape hidden in your coat pocket. Finn and Amy have their own respective letters. Amy is the first to speak "I hope Daniel will get better. I called him last night, after I had the nightmare... He kept mentioning that his windows had eyes. I think something is seriously wrong." You all nod in agreement. You ask Amy "Do you want to talk about your nightmare?" "No..."

🗞️ Everyone is silent, again, before you tell them that you are going to go around and ask people about the letter. With that, you leave. Walking along the streets, you ask everyone you bump into about the letter and handwriting. A few seem to have a reaction, but don't give you an answer. Most, however, just shake their heads.

🗞️ One person, though, grins happily. She's a woman with a beautiful yellowish gold tie, as well as a very professional style of dress. "Oh! That looks like the handwriting of one of the two Dorelaine brothers! They went missing a long time ago... However, some of their family lives here, still. Right up there, in that large manor, on the hill." She points to the hill, and sure enough, there is a large manor on top of it. She continues "I know them, so I can get you in. They will be happy to see you have something like that."

🗞️ You grin, quickly texting your group that you have gotten a hit, before following the woman. You make it to the large gates, where the woman quickly talks to the security about what you have. Shockingly enough, that was all you needed to get in. The lady stands outside to make a quick call, telling you to just go up to the front doors and knock.

🗞️You do so, knocking on the large, dark oak doors. Suns and Moons are carved into the wood, with hourglasses scattered here and there across the pattern. A young man opens the door, his eyes large and full of hope. "Do you have the letter? Can I see it?"

🗞️ You quickly explain "I have the envelope. I didn't bring the letter, because it was just concept art for the show Welcome Home. I could go grab it if you want-" He cuts you off "No! No! Just show me the envelope, then." You pass it to him, watching as he stares at it with fascination.

🗞️"The handwriting is just like my great-uncle, William. He was very involved in Welcome Home. His brother, Ronald, my other great-uncle, created the show. They both went missing... First, Ronald. Years later, William went missing. We've asked the police numerous times to reopen their cases, but they say it's a cold one. I am so happy you found this! Maybe you could help us. One second!"

🗞️ Before you can speak, telling him that you are not interested in helping, he turns around and shouts "MAMA! IT'S TRUE! COME LOOK AT THIS!"

🗞️ There is a shuffling as an old lady comes into view. She is using a walker to help her move, her feet shuffling against the floor quickly, as if in a hurry to see what you have found. She adjusts her spectacles, looking at the envelope. "My word! That IS uncle William's handwriting!" She then looks at you "The lady said your friend had this mailed to him... Please, come in! I'll answer any question you have, just... Promise you'll help us figure out what happened to my uncles..."

🗞️ As much as you want to say no... your heart breaks for the old lady. She sounds so hopeful, like she has been disappointed time and time again, and you are her last hope. You nod, saying "All I ask is that you let me ask about the show they worked on. We are trying to revive interest in it." She nods, her feeble voice saying "Of course... That would be a cherry on top of finding them. That show was their passion. They'll live on through that show..."

🗞️ You follow the two inside, amazed by how large the place is. Everything looks so expensive. A lot of gold, blue, and silver. You are led to a large table, a little statue of Home in the center. The old lady introduces herself "I am Lindsey Dorelaine. This is my son, Edward Dorelaine." Edward grins, waving. You wave back, an awkward smile on your face.

🗞️"So... I want to know anything you can tell me about Welcome Home. I can see that you have some memorabilia of it." You gesture to the little statue. Edward nods "Okay. Well, Ronald came up with the idea alongside his friend, Caesar Jones. Caesar came up with Wally. After a party celebrating how Welcome Home got a broadcasting deal with one of the same channels as one of the shows Jim Henson was on, Ronald went missing. Then, William took over, made a few changes, and... That's all I know. What about you, Mama? You know a lot, since you were alive when William was around."

🗞️ Lindsey is silent for a moment, before speaking very softly. "I saw the studio, once. There were Suns and Moons painted on the walls. William's office was filled with clocks. He even had his own two fire hatchets. One had a Sun and the other a Moon on it. I even got to meet ol' Caesar. At that point, his hands couldn't move as well as before, so another person puppeteered while he voiced good ol' Wally Darling. The Playfellow Workshop is still standing, you know? Locked up and rotting, but still standing. Eddie, why don't you show our guest William's room? We've kept it locked up to preserve it."

🗞️ Your eyes widen as Edward stands. He nods, then holds his hand out for you "Come on. I'm sure we'll find more about Welcome Home in there. It will even give you some more info about William, so you can start your search for him, too." You take his hand, letting him lead you further into the manor. In the very back, on the third floor, there is a faded yellow door. Edward takes out a key, unlocking it, then pushing it open.

🗞️ With a loud creak of the rusted hinges, the dark room is revealed to you. Baby blue walls, clocks everywhere, a large bed... there are countless bookshelves and drawers, alongside an old writing desk. Edward flicks on the light, which flickers slightly before glowing gently. Pictures of Wally Darling hang on the walls, their eyes staring blankly ahead. Most of the Wally pictures are framed, with things such as "He's the Most" or "Puppet of the Month" written in gold letters underneath the picture. There are a couple pictures of Barnaby, too, but most of them have had their eyes scratched out for some unknown reason, and are simply hung up with thumbtacks.

🗞️ The last thing Edward says before leaving is "Take a look around. Take what you think could be useful for your investigation, both for Welcome Home and my great-uncles. Just let us know what you take before you leave. You can call your friends to help, if you like."

#welcome home #welcome home arg #wally darling #wally darling x reader

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sapchat · 1 year

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I'll Share Azriel x Rhysand's sister!Reader

Summary: After being Azriel's mate for so many years, you've both learned what you're comfortable with.

This is my first ever time ever actually writing fanfiction so... that's not anxiety inducing.

Life after Hybern was... easy. At least easy in the sense that instead of war planning during the days you now spend it babysitting, trying to learn a new hobby even though it gets dropped barley three days later, or just sitting around with the inner circle and learning about the others. Granted the last part mainly pertained to the newest members: the Archeron sisters and Lucien, with the occasional Varian.

It had been another night of casual drinking, for everyone but Cassian who was at least two extra glasses ahead of everyone else. The Illyrian general was the one to convince everyone else to join though.

You had been sat between Feyre and Azriel with Nesta, who had taken Rhys' spot, beside her. Elain had chosen to sit to the left of Azriel and the two had been conversing for the last little bit as you learned more about your High Lady and her oldest sister.

Feyre had been glancing over at you as she took another sip of her wine before finally deciding to say what she had thought.

"I've got to ask. Most females... would have already gotten upset by the closeness of another by their mate." She finished her statement by glancing around you and looking at how close Elain had gotten to Azriel.

His hand was still rubbing small circles into your thigh as he conversed with the middle Archeron, his other hand occupied by dragging a finger around the rim of his glass.

Persing your lips you glanced back at Feyre and sighed, "Me and Azriel have been together for almost as long as we've been alive truly. We've known about the bond since the death of mine and Rhys' mother and sister and accepted the bond a few years after I had healed from the accident." You took a glance at Azriel and turned you head back to Feyre where Nesta had also decided to fully tune into the conversation.

"We have had our ups and downs like all relationships, especially after I lost my wings and then came to terms with that. However, we have also found ways to... keep our relationship going. That includes with occasionally trying new things... or new people." You ended the sentence slowly as if you were going to say something else but decided this was the better way of saying it.

"So, what every couple decades or so you both just fuck other people?" Nesta asked glancing at you then Azriel and her sister.

You chuckled and breathed in to say, "Not... not like that. We just... sometimes invite someone new to join us. It's something we started a century or so ago. With rules of course! We both have to agree to the other person, and we all set guidelines to follow when we do it."

"So in a way it's just spicing it all up." Feyre stated even if it sounded more like the High Lady wanted to question it even more.

You turned your entire body towards them, so your back was against Azriel's side, his hand moving to the right side of your hip to hold as he continued whatever he was talking to Elain about.

"Listen. After about two and a half centuries, when you both have lots of outside stressors or new experiences in life you want to start trying new things. And sometimes that includes inviting someone to join you and your mate or sleeping partner." You explained. The two Archeron sisters nodded along, Feyre looking towards Rhys, pursed her lips and then back at you.

"So..." Nesta dragged out, "With this situation?" She nodded her head towards Elain and Azriel.

You turned your head backwards at the two in question and back to answer the conversation.

"The invitations go both ways. If he wants to invite someone, we talk about it and the same goes for if I want to invite someone. That being said, if Azriel wants to invite Elain into our bed, I'm okay with sharing." You stated with a smirk and took a sip as the two sisters looked at the middle Archeron and back to you and Azriel who at that moment leaned into you, kissed the side of your neck then winked at his High Lady and the oldest Archeron before going back to his conversation with the middle Archeron sister.

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yuriririnnie · 10 months

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Sober Thoughts

A/N: Reminiscent of my old conversations with my ex boyfriends over a pint (or pints tbh) of beer. I'll probably edit this again later on my laptop. For now, settle with no italicized words. Lmao

PAIRING | Lee Heeseung x female reader

WC | 2.6k

GENRE | Fluff, suggestive (if you squint) though I try to keep it PG

WARNINGS | Explicit language, mentions of alcohol and implied underaged drinking, suggestive, mentions of premarital sex

SYNOPSIS | It was a tough week for you and your boyfriend so you sit down in a quiet speakeasy bar where you guys had your first beer together. There wasn't anything special. No birthdays, anniversaries, etc. You weren't celebrating anything. Just you, him, and the comfortable nostalgia from your 7-year long relationship.

"Been a while, don't you think?" he wiggled onto his seat after pulling your chair out for you to get comfortable close to him.

You looked around. "It still looks the same as three months ago."

"I wonder if they still remember us."

"I'm sure the waitress still remembers you."

"You're gonna fight with me over that again like last time?"

"Nah, you're not as handsome as you were when we were in college." you giggled. He still is, but you can't give him that.

He scoffed at the remark. "But what about when the guy next to us thought you and I were just friends? The one who asked for your number while I was in the bathroom? Hmm?"

"He was obviously drunk!"

"Sad I wasn't drunk enough myself. I could have kicked his ass."

You rolled your eyes trying to fight a laugh from escaping. Before you could comment, one of the waitresses approached your table.

"Welcome back, Sir!" she squealed, not even hiding that annoying flirty tone. Heeseung locked eyes with you and you both giggled over your unspoken communication.

"Yeah, here with my girlfriend of seven years again. We'll have two draught beers please."

She lets out a small huff, clearly disappointed that you two haven't broken up yet. You look up at her with a huge grin plastered on your face that's practically saying "Nice try, sister." And with that, she left with your orders.

"Guess I still got it."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah Mr. Hotshot."

"So how was your week, my love?" he reached out to hold both your hands. "Anything new you haven't complained to me about this week?"

"Very funny. I still haven't gotten any calls from any of the positions I applied for this month."

"How about that firm you worked for last year?"

"I liked working there but I kind of want to explore other places too. The legal world is getting pretty small so opportunities are scarce and I'm finding it much harder now more than ever." you were doing fine, just not that great. And that's not somewhere you want to be when you're in your twenties. "How about you?"

Your beers arrived. "Work has been the same." he takes a sip. "My boss is trying to lure me into getting a promotion though."

"That's great isn't it?!"

"It would be if we're ready to relocate."

"What do you mean? Does the promotion come with relocation?" you gulped your first mouthful of alcohol for the night, trying not to mind the seriousness of the conversation.

"Yeah. It's not that far. Just by the other side of the city. The commute doesn't make much of a difference, but I would rather we decide together once you've found a job that's good for you."

"That sounds very husband of you, Hee."

He chuckled softly, "I always incorporate you into my decisions. We've been together for so long after all."

"Has it really been seven years?" you rest your chin on your hand as you pretended to think.

"Time flies." he sighed.

"When you're having fun?"

"When you're with a psycho more like it."

"Fuck you."

"I did last night." he lifted his eyebrow with a smirk.

"Meh, I've seen you do better."

You both laugh. Again, he swallowed another mouthful of beer before saying, "I remember our first time here about four years ago. The beer tasted terrible!"

You covered his mouth to shut him up. "You can't say those things here Hee they might kick us out!" He shook his head to remove your hand. "Besides, it was our first time drinking alcohol back then."

"Was it?"

"Well, doesn't include Jake's birthday party when we were barely 17."

He scoffed. "I was 18. You were 12."

You slapped his hand. "I was 17 and a half!"

"You were half my size!"

"In my defense, I still kind of am to this day."

You could see his eyes disappear as he gulped his drink. This was just like any of your normal lovers' banters and you'd think that he's already made every single possible joke to you by now and that you guys have probably already argued over every single thing, yet still the attraction, spark, and freshness of young love continue to linger around the two of you.

Both of you were drinking faster than usual tonight. Maybe it was just the familiarity of it all, but you really did enjoy hanging out with Heeseung. He wasn't just your boyfriend. He was also your best friend. You were lucky to find both in just one person.

"I still see that 15-year old little Ms. Perfect Girl who got a 93 in Chemistry when I got a 95."

"Why was I little Ms. Perfect? You were Mr. Hotshot with perfect grades, captain of the basketball team, vice president of the supreme student council—"

"Only because you were president." he interrupted with what looked like beer number 2 in his hands.

"You had absolutely no rizz in your 6-foot tall body though."

"No rizz?! I was able to get you!"

"Only because we got trapped in that audio-visual room with little to no sunlight," you recalled and the memory was so vivid it still felt like it happened yesterday, "and no phone signal too. God you were so loud! It was the first time we ever had a proper conversation outside of class."

Heeseung smiled as he thought about how you guys transitioned from enemies to friends to lovers.

"I found out about your family back then," you continued, "and your passion for music."

"You told me you wanted to be a lawyer and I thought it was totally weird."

You looked at him funny. "You don't seem to be so bothered by it now!"

"Only because I know you're gonna be rich someday."

That stupid smirk again. You poked his nose and he scrunched it simultaneously, earning a snicker from you.

"It wasn't always easy for us," you exhaled, "law school and work is tough."

"We pull through nonetheless."

You were both now on your third beer, and even if the night was still young and that it is still relatively too early for you to feel tipsy, it's there. You weren't drunk yet, but the buzz was slowly knocking on your head.

"How about Karina? Were you ever jealous of her?" he asked. You don't remember how the conversation went from arguing whether to paint the bathroom blue or yellow to the external factors that might have potentially caused a break up.

"No way!" you lied through your teeth, "I knew she was just a friend of yours from the start! I mean, she was drop-dead gorgeous but not enough to break me, nope."

He was full on laughing now, "Wokay, whatever you say Y/N my perfect angel bb girl lover baby."

"Stop mocking me!" you lightly slapped his shoulder, "Between you and I, in this relationship, you are the jealous one!"

Heeseung flinched a little bit because you were somewhat semi-screaming into his ear when you spoke. Oh he knew you were being your three-drink self already and he could tell because "three-drink Y/N" is loud Y/N. The buzz was now kicking itself in and you felt so much more light-headed that an hour ago. Nonetheless, he knew how you were feeling by now granted that this is probably your one hundredth time drinking together as a couple.

"Alright let me get this straight," he spoke close to your face, "you won't let me attend a Twice concert and finally see Jihyo the love of my life in person but still I'm the jealous one?!"

"Yes!" you huffed.

The sound of you guys' laughter and trivial taunting echoed the small bar. The music was mellow now and both of you were ready for another beer.

"I got really lonely when you decided to go to law school."

You nearly choked on your beer with his sudden confession. "Why? You always knew I was gonna get into law."

"Well, I know, I know, it's just," he took a deep breath, "Hearing how hard it was from my other friends and how demanding it would be for you, it kind of made me feel insecure."

"Why is that?"

"I thought that you might find someone in law school with the same interests, same aspirations in life, and end up dumping me for him." he let out a small laugh and rubbed the back of his neck.

Four-drink Hee was sensitive Hee, and although he looked adorable with his doe eyes and red ears, it made you sad because you wish he told you that before. You guys talked about your futures together even in the early stages of dating and he was always supportive of your life decisions despite them being almost entirely different from the things he wanted. Luckily during the course of your relationship, you were able to find common grounds and although in an ideal world things could have been called perfect, the life you guys had was close to perfect despite the struggles because he's just so passionate, kind, and understanding of your needs.

"I would never dump you." you huffed.

"Yeah, well I kind of figured that if you wanted to dump me you would have a long time ago."

"Right? Now I'm just stuck with you."

He pouted. Oh right. This was still Four-drink Hee.

"—but of course, wouldn't have it any other way!" you quickly took back and he made the most precious grin. You couldn't help but pinch his cheek.

Five-drink Y/N was dirty Y/N and Heeseung could see in your eyes how dilated your pupils have become and how touchy you've been for the last 20 minutes. He was feeling a little drowsy now too considering that these beers do come in a pint per order.

Were the mugs really that big?

He shook his head and continued to listen to you rambling about something he already knows and maybe it was just the alcohol but did you really just start caressing his thigh? No, you couldn't have, and you were at a public place.

With lightning speed, he ordered two shots of tequila.

"Coming right up, Sir!" the waitress chirped as she skipped back to the counter.

"That bitch is really getting on my last nerve," you say groggily, "do you want me to make a scene?"

He let out a breathy laugh, "No baby, I just want you to drink."

Truthfully he wanted to just move on to Six-drink Y/N because Five-drink Y/N was either just horny or violent and while it would have been absolutely no problem for him (he's been wanting you ever since your second drink) if you guys were at home, sadly you weren't. And he needed to be the responsible one.

God was he perfect or what?

You both took your shots and wow did your world spin with just one teeny-tiny drink? Heeseung let out the loudest Korean post-drink sound and you could only look at him in adoration.

"Did I ever tell you how annoying you are?" you ask.

"It was the first thing you ever said to me and the last thing I heard before you left for work this morning."

"Right, I remember."

"Do you remember the day we moved in together?"

He looked down at your fingers tapping on the table, then to your lips which were pursed together in thought. It was his turn to look at you in awe, and all you did were the most mundane things.

"I remember the day we decided to move in together" you finally spoke, "we were in my studio apartment and the kitchen sink was always leaking, the walls were so thin we heard the neighbors fight all the time."

"It always ends in sex though."

"Yeah, well we would sometimes fight over whatever they were fighting about too."

"And then we end up having sex too."

You felt your blood rush up to your cheeks and playfully slapped his shoulder. "It was a humble beginning, but one night you woke up and—"

"I woke you up and asked you if you wanted to move in together."

"Right," you respond feeling a little shy from his gaze, "and it's been two years since."

"I do not miss that old apartment of yours. The leaks and creaky sounds were loud and your roommates were insufferable."

"And yours weren't? You had to share an apartment with Jake, Jay, and Sunghoon, and they were all hooligans."

"Yeah, well we were in college and Jay paid for the rent a considerable long time so it helped me save up for our apartment now."

Heeseung was so much better than you when it comes to finances and since you were a student longer than he was, he covered for a lot of things for you. Post-grad, he was able to afford a two-bedroom apartment and even if the rent was a little high, not long after, he landed a considerably high-paying job at a creative agency. Sometimes you would envy his growth because it would always be exponential, but looking back to where you started from where you are now, you've come a very long way too.

"Do you ever see us getting married, Y/N?"

This was Seven-drink Heeseung and maybe this was his cap because you've never ever been asked this question by him before despite being together for so long. Nearly choking on your drink, you released a small cough in response.

He giggled and kept a lingering stare at your reaction. "I'm just messing with you, you don't have to—"

"Of course, I do."

"Oh."

His ears were burning red now. Cute.

"Who else would I spend the next seven years with? Or even the next ten? Twelve? Fourteen? Forever?" you made a cheesy grin to match your equally cheesy statement, "you ask the silliest questions, Mr. Lee."

"Alright, alright!" he put both his hands up in defeat, "let's go get the bill."

You could only nod because at this point you really did feel the alcohol in your head and it wasn't light anymore. It felt heavy, and if it weren't for the sobering conversation you had with your boyfriend by the end of the night, you would have semi-passed out by now.

Heeseung guided you up to your apartment, removed your shoes, and settled you onto your couch.

"Had fun tonight, baby?" he sat on the floor facing your bare legs as you rested your head back on the pillow.

"Mmm-hmm." you respond feeling his hands massage your aching calves, "Thank you for taking me out tonight."

"Of course."

The next morning, you could only recall the moment you fell asleep on the couch with him.

Seven years might not be a long time for some, and for others it might have felt like an eternity. But for some reason you were stuck in between a split-second and forever. That's how Heeseung made you feel. Euphoric but rational, ecstatic but calm, mature but youthful, innocent but brave. He provided the sweetness of Nirvana along with the thrill that comes with uncertain reality.

You were tiptoeing on the border of sober and drunk, and you're glad to be held by him now and maybe, just maybe, if life could just allow you to be even more lucky, forever.

#blog #kpop #kpop bg #kpop boys #enha imagines #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagine #enhypen x reader #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung #lee heesung x reader #heeseung #heesung enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen

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dameronology · 2 years

Text

timing's a bitch (s.h) - 1/5

s u m m e r ' 8 6

you'll be the saddest part of me, a part of me that will never be mine - the loneliest, maneskin (x)

"if you have chemistry, you only need one other thing...timing. but timing is a bitch" - how i met your mother

a.k.a a.k.a the three times that steve harrington chose the wrong moment, the one time that you chose the wrong moment, and the one time you both got it right (series masterlist)

You made Steve Harrington cry the first time you met him.

He still remembered it clear as day, even though it had been in first grade. You'd thrown a Lego brick at his head and stuffed sand in his mouth, promising that if he ever touched your pet worm again (his name was Sherm, if you were wondering) that he would pay. After some negotiation and charm from his part - and the promise that he wouldn't make his parents call yours - you had become best friends. You brought balance to one another's lives, even from a young age. Steve was always a little more calculated and thoughtful in his actions, sticking to the sidelines at playtime and always worrying about his hair. You, meanwhile, had always run headfirst into danger, with scrapes on your knees and glue in your hair. Ying and yang.

You never left Steve's side and he never left yours. Things came close when the popularity really got to his ego in sophomore year, but it was nothing a whack across the head couldn't fix. The threat of telling every person at Hawkins High about his Farah Fawcett hairspray secret also very quickly humbled him. He owed you a lot of apologies after that phase.

Things were better than ever by the time graduation rolled around. It hadn't really hit either of you that this was it; that Hawkins High would no longer be your world. It was scarier for you than it was for Steve because he knew deep down that he had probably peaked in high school. He had no college lined up; while you'd gone and gotten yourself a full scholarship to NYU, all he'd done was argue with his parents about his grades and why they wouldn't foot the bill for him to follow you to the city. The world was about to become bigger and scarier. The prospect of you being thousands of miles away only made it worst.

"Just one year," Steve begged, "just take one year out. The new mall is gonna be hiring loads of people and you can save up a butt ton before you go to college-"

"- I am not taking a year out, Steve!" you exclaimed. Reaching across the center console, you gave his chest a whack. "I worked my ass off the last four years so that I have enough money to go now."

"Okay, don't think about money then. Think about..."

He paused, trailing off.

"Think about what?"

"Spending time with me before I go?" he meekly asked. "We can have loads of fun! Just me and you, y'know, having one final year together before you leave me forever."

You groaned. "Steve, we've had all summer together. Also, I'm not leaving you! I'll be home literally every few weeks."

He forced a smile, eyes focusing on the road ahead. This was his last two days with you before you moved and he didn't want to spend it being sad. It was just that his heart ached in a way he never thought it would. A thousand times more than when his parents didn't show for graduation; even more than when Nancy Wheeler left him.

Steve's glance flickered over to the photo tucked away into his rearview mirror. It was a Polaroid taken over the summer; you and Steve were stood between your parents, armed wrapped around each other as you were grinning in your caps. Maybe his parents hadn't shown for him on graduation, but yours sure had, with flowers and hugs and affection for you both. Hell, they probably wouldn't have minded if he moved into your room once you were at college. It was definitely something he thought about.

"Summer doesn't feel like enough," he muttered. "Doesn't it scare you that things are changing?"

"Of course it does," you replied. "Change isn't always bad though. Things can't always stay the same, Stevie. Me staying home an extra year isn't gonna delay the inevitable."

Steve glanced in his wing mirror, indicating off the highway and pulling into your driveway. You'd had to beg him to come and help you pack; even though he'd acted like he didn't want to, he was secretly delighted at the idea. In fact, he was secretly delighted at spending any time with you.

After yelling a quick hi! to your parents, you both bounded up the stairs and into your bedroom. It was pretty much stripped now, years worth of blue tack and marks and scuffs on the wall. Your entire childhood packed neatly away into boxes; some for college, some for the attic, some for the dump. Steve in particular was drawn to the pile of photos on your nightstand. It was you and him through the years - some were a little dog-eared and frayed, but the two little kids smiling back at him never faltered.

He put them down and glanced over at you. You were sat on the bed now, having discarded your clothes for a pair of sweats and one of his hoodies. He'd leant that to you last year after a day at the lake - naturally, you'd gone running in totally unplanned in your clothes. He'd stood at the side the entire time, too scared of getting his hair wet.

That had always been one of his regrets; holding back. Not just the day at the lake, but the time you'd gone tree climbing and waved to him whilst he waited at the bottom. The time you rode all the big coasters at Coney Island and smiled at him as you went by. You were always going a thousand miles an hour and Steve just fucking stood there, waving as time passed him by. And now you were about to loop-de-loop right away from him.

He watched as you frowned in concentration, hands scrawling away at a messy to-do list. Pack, buy new toothbrush, apply for job, find class schedule. It was the most organised he'd ever seen you.

"You're being awfully quiet," you commented without even looking up. "What's on your mind?"

"Nothing's on my mind."

"Steve, please," you scoffed. "You've been my best friend for fourteen years. Don't try and act like you're not deep in thought about something. What is it? A car? A girl-"

"- kind of," he said. "I was thinking about...us."

You peered up at him, eyebrows creasing. "Us?"

"Yeah. Don't you think we're pretty great?"

"Yeah," you smiled. "You're my best friend, Steve. Nothing will ever change that."

Steve sighed to himself. Wasn't that the whole problem? You were friends. Best, best fucking friends. And even though it was no secret that you yourself had little thoughts and feelings about him, they never seemed to overlap. You'd liked him when he dated Nancy. Then by the time they'd broken up, you were hooking up with the Dungeons and Dragons kid who had been held back two years. Then by the time that ended, Steve was onto his next fling.

And now you were going away. Maybe that's why he was yearning.

"Nothing at all?"

You frowned. "Nothing."

"Not even this?"

To be honest, Steve wasn't really thinking straight. Plagued by nothing but regret and hankering, he threw aside your to-do list and dove across the bed. His hands found your waist, pulling you towards him with might. It didn't take a genius to work out what was going on; even though his actions took you by surprise, you still tangled a hand in his hair when his lips came down on yours, the other finding it's way to the loop of of his best.

He pulled you closer, tongue slipping inside your mouth. You didn't mean to let out a gentle moan as he did, but fuck. Steve Harrington was a good kisser and it was annoying that all those rumours you'd tried to ignore in high school were true.

Steve sat up, pulling you into his lap. He moved his lips from yours, moving down to just below your ear. You didn't protest, instead dropping your head in the crook of his neck.

It wasn't until there was a knock at your door that you both jumped.

The sound was like a cold bucket of water over your head, snapping you back to reality. Fuck. You'd just made out with Steve. He had never been the King of Hawkins high to you; he was the kid that tried to kill Sherm over a decade ago. The same kid who got yellow braces because he thought they looked cool. The same kid that secretly cried every time Vienna by Billy Joel came on the radio.

"Honey, how's packing going?" your mum called. "I'm going to the landfill early tomorrow so make sure that you-"

"- yeah, I will!" you cut her off, trying to catch your breath. "Thanks, mum!"

There was the fall of footsteps as she walked away, leaving you and your best friend to sit there and deal with the consequences of your actions. You were still sat in Steve's lap, cheeks warm with something that wasn't quite embarrassment. His chest was heaving in time with yours, eyes refusing to break your gaze.

"What the fuck did we just do?" you asked.

"I...uh...I kissed you. And you kissed me back, and then I put my hand here and you put yours there and-"

"- it was a rhetorical question!" you exclaimed. "Oh my god, I'm still sat in your lap."

Rolling off of him, you landed on the bed next to Steve. You immediately pulled your hood up, tugging on the strings so that it tightened around your cheeks and hid your face. The worst part of all this was that you'd enjoyed it. Had the universe - in the form of your mother - not interfered, you had no doubt in your mind that you probably would have fucked your best friend. That certainly was a jarring revelation.

"Did you..." you began, but then paused. "Had you thought about doing that for a long time?"

"Yeah, I guess," Steve admitted. "Not like constantly but there's been moments over the last few years. And then I saw you sitting there in my clothes and we're about to say goodbye and-"

"- no we're not, Steve," you grumbled. "Because I'm going to see you at Christmas, and then like every weekend after that, and...Jesus Christ. Was that meant as an impulsive thing or an actual thing?"

He shrugged. "I wouldn't kiss my best friend of fifteen years just for one night. I could go out to a shitty bar downtown and find anyone for that."

"Why now?"

"Can you blame a guy for shooting his shot?" Steve tried to joke, but you didn't laugh "I mean...yeah. Maybe I was thinking about you and I being more than you and I. It seems dumb now."

"Your timing is fucking awful, Steve Harrington," you gave him a small smile, gently running a hand over his face. "You could have asked me at any point before now and I would have said yes."

"But?"

"But I'm moving half way across the fucking country in two days!" you exclaimed. "You're my best friend and I love you but our lives are about to change. The stakes are too high and you are far too important for me to risk losing, okay?"

Steve smiled, giving you a nod. It could have been worse - it could have been a straight up no. A why fuck would I ever love you? or a broken nose. It was still rejection, but it was just...timing. Bad timing. Maybe he just had to wait.

He was okay with that.

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